Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Resonance and d
Summary: AU, gen. An illness upsets Harry's third year, changing events until they are no longer recognizable. As Harry becomes sicker, it becomes clear that it has to do with the new creatures in the forest, and a battle for the heart of wizarding society.
1. Dementors

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**

**Chapter One- Dementors**

"Harry, maybe you should go to the hospital wing."

Harry looked up at Hermione. "Why?"

She pointed her fork at his plate, which was still loaded with the sausages and potatoes that he had put on it nearly twenty minutes ago. "Because I haven't seen you eat anything since term started, and that was nearly a week ago. Also, you look pale."

"And you haven't been sleeping right," Ron added, putting his own fork down for a moment. "You wander down to the common room in the middle of the night."

"I have so eaten," Harry said, trying to remember if this was strictly true. He had been missing quite a few meals since returning to school. He hadn't had much of an appetite, and ended up eating only a few bites when he even bothered to put anything on his plate. Still- he couldn't have missed _every_ meal. That was absurd.

Well, he'd only had a chocolate bar today (he'd picked up a whole box in Diagon Alley while getting school supplies, and had been hiding them from his dorm-mates ever since) but certainly yesterday, he'd- well, no, he'd only had chocolate, then, too. This did not seem like compelling evidence, and if he did share it, Ron would know about the chocolate. He tried to think of the last full meal he'd had, and couldn't.

Hermione watched this mental dilemma with something between amusement and concern.

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll go."

He walked up to the hospital wing, where Madame Pomfrey clucked at him and gave him some pepper-up potion. Harry didn't feel any better for it, but then, he hadn't felt ill in the first place.

"Feel better?" Ron asked when Harry wandered back into the common room a few minutes later.

Harry shrugged. "I guess," he said. He stayed a moment, watching Ron easily beat an unsuspecting fifth-year at chess, and then went up to his dorm. He was feeling a but hungry now, and those chocolate bars were calling his name. He felt a momentary flash of guilt for not sharing, but ignored it. He would share a few bars when there weren't so many left; that way, he wouldn't go through the whole supply in a week.

He'd get back on real food tomorrow. After all- he was obviously getting better if he was hungry at all.

It was only lunch time the next day when Hermione sent him back to the hospital wing, despite his feeble attempts to eat a piece of toast. Well, half a piece of toast. And he hadn't managed even that, really.

Harry couldn't remember ever being really ill before. He'd missed the bouts of flu that the Dursleys and his primary school classmates had suffered, and he'd never had so much as the sniffles as far back as his memory went. Hermione had explained to him, once, that wizarding children tended to have terribly good immune systems. Muggle illnesses rarely were strong enough to make them ill, and even then, they tended to be very mild.

Wizarding illnesses were a lot more serious, as a general rule; they gave you nasty puss-filled sores, or kept you in bed for weeks, or killed you. Harry hoped that he didn't have one of those; there wasn't a single one of them that was easily curable.

Once in the hospital wing, Harry found that he had to wait. Some second-year Hufflepuff had managed a spectacular explosion and splattered what looked like the entire second-year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class with unpleasant results. They had all grown extra hands wherever the potion hit them.

"No, you cannot keep it," Madame Pomfrey was telling one chubby Ravenclaw boy.

"But it would be useful! Think of all the times you need to carry something, but your hands are already full, so you try to pick it up and only end up dropping all the things you were holding. With an extra hand, you could-"

But Madame Pomfrey had now managed to grab hold of his arm and vanish the extra hand that had grown from his elbow, and had moved on to the next student, a small girl with blonde hair who appeared to be playing peek-a-boo with herself, since both of her eyebrows had become hands and were covering her eyes.

Harry turned away from this scene to find that Professor Lupin had come in, and was sitting in the next chair over.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said.

"Hello, Harry. I take it you aren't feeling well?"

"Er- just a bit ill. Pepper-up potion doesn't seem to have taken care of it, so…" Harry didn't want to admit that he'd only come up because Hermione had made him, so he changed the subject. "What about you, sir? Are you alright?"

Lupin pulled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing a tightly wrapped bandage. "I had an encounter with a creature in the forest a few nights ago, and the wound isn't healing as well as I'd hoped."

"Oh. What sort of creature?"

"One I sincerely hope you never run into," Lupin said, neatly avoiding the subject. "That forest is a dangerous place."

"I know," Harry said, thinking of the times he had nearly been killed there. Voldemort in first year, and acrumantulas in second… "It wasn't an acrumantula, was it?" he asked without thinking.

Lupin gave him a strange look. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Er- well, I've heard rumors that there's a group in there…" Harry put on his most innocent face.

"Mmm-hmm," Lupin said, apparently not convinced. "You do know how dangerous acrumantulas are?"

"Oh, yes," Harry said blandly.

"Then you know that, had I encountered a nest of them, I likely wouldn't be sitting here today."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling a bit stupid. After all, if it had been acrumantulas, Lupin wouldn't have bothered trying to hide it. It was no secret that all sorts of dangerous creatures lived in the forest. It would have to be something really strange, or something that ought not to be there at all.

Madame Pomfrey finished with the last of the second-years then, and beckoned Harry over.

"Back again?"

"Yeah- I'm not really feeling any better."

She made him list his symptoms, and Harry was highly aware of Professor Lupin's presence the whole time. The last thing Harry wanted to do was look even stupider in front of _a teacher that might be worth something._

Madame Pomfrey stared at her cupboard of potions for a while, as though it might tell her what was wrong with him. Finally, she asked, "Is there anything you _have _managed to eat?

"Well- I've had a fair number of chocolate bars…"

Her head shot up at that. "Really? Tell me, how have your dreams been?"

How that question related to her last one, Harry didn't know, but he answered it. "Er- strange. Not bad, exactly, but weird."

She nodded briskly, as though this was what she had expected. "Dementors," she said. "If I told them once, I told them a thousand times- having those things so close to the school isn't good for the more sensitive students."

Harry wanted to protest at this point, but she was already in full mother-hen mode.

"I'll be calling on the Board of Governors again. Maybe now they'll listen to sense…"

Harry groaned a little. Lucius Malfoy was on the Board of Governors, and he was certain to tell his son all about this. Harry was never going to see the end of the Harry-fainting-and-nearly-being-eaten-by-dementors impressions if this got out.

"Really," he said. "I'm not that ill. I feel much better, actually. I might- I'll just go now. You don't need to trouble yourself-"

"Nonsense," she said. "I can get a potion ready for you by dinner time, but I will keep working on the governors- even if the other students aren't feeling the effects as strongly as you are, it isn't healthy to have those nasty things so close by. It's illegal to have them so close to where people live, under normal circumstances…"

Harry left the room, grateful to get away from her. He paused just outside the door, however, when he heard her say to Lupin: "I really do hope it was worth it, risking your life in that forest yet again."

"We have to find out why they're massing. No one else is as protected as I-" Lupin gave a hiss of pain. "Is this strictly necessary? I can't possibly be infected."

Madame Pomfrey gave a little laugh. Harry, in the hallway, was thinking furiously. Who was massing in the forest? Dementors?

"Well- what did you find out?"

"They have a new leader. Someone more aggressive than the previous one. I don't know with any certainty who, though I have my suspicions."

Well, that ruled out dementors. Somehow Harry didn't think they would follow any sort of leader.

"Not-" Pomfrey gasped a little.

"That's what I fear."

"Well- if it is him, then you should be doubly careful. He's betrayed friends before, as you well know. He wouldn't hesitate a moment before he turned on you."

"I know," Lupin said, with a bit of a hitch in his voice. "I'll be careful."

"There," she said. "All wrapped up. Come back in a few days so I can take another look at it."

"Thank you," Lupin said. "I'll do that."

Harry made a hasty dash around a corner before Lupin could see that he'd been eavesdropping. Then he remembered he was late for charms, and went down the stairs. At least he had a valid excuse...

As he had promised, Harry went to see Madame Pomfrey after dinner. This time, there were no others around.

"Here," she said, pouring him a glass of what looked like hot chocolate. "This is a potion to protect your mind from outside influences, mixed with a basic nutritive potion. You ought to thank Professor Snape for that, next time you see him. It isn't something every wizard could make."

Harry had no intention of thanking Snape for anything.

"What's a nutritive potion?"

"One to slow your metabolism and give you additional calories. It's mostly sugar, honestly. You said you hadn't been eating right, and you're too thin as it is. When was your last full meal?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno," he lied. If he hadn't eaten since the beginning of the school year- and Hermione, at least, seemed certain he hadn't- then it had been a long time ago indeed. He'd been at the Dursleys all summer, and the amount that they fed him couldn't reasonably be called a snack, let alone a meal. At least they hadn't locked him up, this summer. So- the last good meal he'd had was at the Leaving Feast. He'd stuffed himself full then, but it didn't make up for the three months since.

"I'm not a big eater, normally," Harry added when it was clear that Madame Pomfrey wanted more information. _Because I don't have food, normally._

He took a sip from the cup, and nearly gagged. He liked sweets as much as the next thirteen-year-old, but Pomfrey hadn't been joking when she said the potion was mostly sugar; it tasted sweeter than any candy Harry had ever had, sickly sweet, cloying.

"How much do you weigh?" she asked abruptly, eyes scanning his skinny frame as if she were trying to gauge the information.

Harry shrugged again. He didn't really know.

She summoned a scale from the other side of the room. "Step up," she said. Harry did so, knowing before he did so that whatever his weight was, she'd find a flaw with it.

He looked down for a moment, and then frowned. "That can't be right," he said. "I can't weigh that little."

She smiled grimly. "And yet the scale says that you do. I think we need to work on your eating habits, Mr. Potter. Continue drinking your potion while I talk, please."

Harry went back to the chair he'd been sitting in, and took another sip of the nasty stuff. Why couldn't any potions ever taste pleasant?

"I'm sure you're aware that a boy your age and height ought to weigh significantly more than you currently do. Now, I understand that you've been ill lately, and that accounts for a bit of the problem. However, I don't think you lost over two stone in the last week."

Harry shook his head.

"Now, I want you to tell me what a normal meal consists of, for you."

"At home, or at school?"

She gave him a strange look. He seemed to be getting a lot of those, lately.

"At school, first," she said.

Harry went about describing his meals to her, and she looked fairly pleased. "That sounds about right," she said, "Though you need to eat extra, to gain some weight. Now- what do you eat at home?"

"A cup of broth, or a piece of bread. If I've finished all my chores, that is. If not, I don't get any food. Plus what I can sneak, and whatever my friends send for my birthday."

Appalled was too mild a word to describe the healer's expression, which was gratifying to Harry. He'd told teachers in primary school, and they'd all refused to listen, or forgotten as soon as he left the room. "Well," she said. "You do realize that if you're making some sort of joke…"

"Why would I do that?" Harry asked.

"To get even with them, if you were mad. I've seen it done before."

"Well, I'm not. Mad at them, that is. Not more than usual. They were almost decent, this last summer."

She looked a bit ill. "Really?"

"Well, yes."

"What do they normally do?"

Harry ended up staying far longer than he had anticipated, telling her about summer before second year, when he'd been locked up in his room and rescued by Ron and the twins, and the time before school started, when he'd finally been given his own room instead of the cupboard under the stairs.

"Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Not in so many words. Not since I was in primary school."

"Now- this is very important- you do realize that this constitutes, at the very least, criminal negligence, and most likely abuse?"

Harry stared at her. "What?"

"If what you're saying is true, it should be fairly easy to get you away from them."

"Oh."

Harry had dreamed since he was small about someone comint to take him away from the Dursleys. But years had gone by without anything of the sort happening, and he hadn't made any efforts to escape them in years.

"I wouldn't want to go to an orphanage," he said, in a voice that was smaller than he intended it to be.

She gave him a fond look, which he had never seen her do before. "Mr. Potter- if it came to that, I would adopt you myself."

She glanced at the clock. "Oh, dear. It's getting late. You'd better get off to bed. I'm going to do some research, and get some forms to fill out. Come back before breakfast- you'll need some more potion then, and before every other meal for the foreseeable future. We need to fatten you up. If you don't get up to an average weight by the end of the year, there will be consequences. Sleep well!"

Harry walked back to his common room, feeling a bit stunned. That had been unexpected. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have Madame Pomfrey as a mum, and couldn't. Besides, it would never come to that; the Weasleys would take him in if he needed them to, probably.

"How did it go?" Ron asked. He was bent over an essay, which he would have to redo since it had chocolate stains all over it.

"Fine," Harry said. There were other people around, and he didn't want to talk about it in front of them. This was personal. "Do you want to go up to the dorm, and work on homework there?"

"There aren't any proper desks there," Ron complained.

"I need to talk," Harry said.

"Oh. Well- lets go, then. Should I get Hermione?"

"Where is she?"

"She's talking to McGonagall about her schedule. Personally, I think she's mental. Did you _see_ her schedule? Half of her classes are at the same time as one another. She'd have to be in two places at once, or three maybe."

"Well- I'll tell her later, then."

But he was spared telling the whole thing twice, because at that moment, Hermione came back into the common room.

"Come on," Harry said. "We're going up to talk."

She gave him a sharp glance, but followed.

He told them everything about his two visits to the hospital wing, including what he'd overheard Lupin saying. It was only after all the other information was revealed that he began to tell them about the adoption offer.

"Well, she reckons she can get me away from the Dursleys-"

"How?" Hermione asked.

"Er- well, some of the stuff they've done isn't exactly legal."

Hermione looked a bit shocked, but not as much as might have been expected. Ron's jaw set in a sort of grim determination. "Yeah," he said. "I tried to tell dad loads of times, but he just wouldn't listen. Thought I was exaggerating."

Harry shrugged. "Anyway, she's stuffing me full of potions, and trying to make me gain two stone by the end of the year."

"Did she actually figure out what's wrong with you, though?"

"Oh- yeah. Stupid dementors again. Apparently they're affecting me even at this distance, though not so badly. I have potions to take for that, too."

Hermione nodded, satisfied.

"See?" she said. "Aren't you glad you went to the hospital wing, now?"

Harry nodded.

"But what did Lupin mean about something gathering?" Ron asked. "Like… dementors, or something? Because I can't see anything else getting near, with them around."

"Dementors wouldn't follow a leader, I reckon," Harry said. "So it can't be them. But that's a good point; it would have to be something that isn't afraid of them."

"I'll look it up," Hermione said. "I'm sure I can find something out in the library."

That said, they went back to homework. Harry hadn't really made a start on any of it, and he ended up falling asleep on a transfiguration essay and prodded awake by Hermione, so that his face was smeared with ink for the rest of the evening.

It was once he went to bed that the real problems started, unfortunately.

He woke to find that it was late at night, but he wasn't at all tired. He swung his legs out of the bed, and was surprised to find that there was sand on the floor. That was odd. It was too dark to see why it was there, so he walked towards the door. He opened it, and was even more surprised that he didn't see the staircase down to the common room; instead, there was a large room with a huge blazing fireplace. No- "room" was too kind a word. This was a cave, carved into stone but never fully finished. There was sand all over the floor, and the walls were rough.

Next to the fire were three red arm chairs, oddly out of place here, facing away from Harry. There were men sitting in two of the chairs, but the third was empty. He took half a step forward, only to find a hand grasping his shoulder to stop him.

"You don't want to go in there. Galba isn't happy today. You'd best go back to sleep."

Harry turned to find himself facing a boy identical to himself. He felt his jaw drop, but the other boy seemed unfazed. "Go," he said. "Bed." He gave Harry a shove back towards the bedroom, which ended up knocking Harry to the ground. The shock of it woke Harry for real, and he found himself only inches from the stairway. If he'd taken even half a step more-

Well, suddenly Harry's strange dreams didn't seem so innocent anymore.

**A/N:**

Some of you may have noticed that I said Harry spent the whole summer at the Dursleys, when he spent the last three weeks at the Leaky Cauldron in canon. Don't worry; this is intentional. This story deviates from canon earlier than it might seem just yet, but everything will make sense later.

Edit 10-13-08: Slight Brit-picking. Will probably come back and fix it up some more if and when I get a proper Brit-picking beta.


	2. Boggarts

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
Chapter 2: Boggarts**

"You look tired," Hermione commented at breakfast the next day. "Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

"No- I had a strange dream, but otherwise I'm fine."

Harry didn't feel like mentioning the sleepwalking episode just yet. It was a bit embarrassing, and would only make Hermione worry.

Ron shot Harry a look that he could not quite understand. "You were awake at four in the bloody morning," he said. "You call that sleeping well?"

"I was only up for a little while."

"You were up the whole bloody night."

"I was not."

Ron shot an exasperated look to Hermione, as if to say "Talk some sense into him, please!"

"Look, Harry," Hermione said. "We know you haven't been well. You don't need to hide it."

"I'm not hiding anything. I just don't feel like talking about it just yet, alright? Later."

Finally seeming to notice that they were in the Great Hall eating breakfast and surrounded by people, Ron and Hermione both nodded slightly.

There was no chance to talk until much later; first they had to sit through Divination, where Professor Trelawney saw a grim in Harry's teacup and gasped so deeply that she choked on the peppermint she had been sucking, which made it hard to take her prediction of Harry's imminent demise very seriously.

"She's a complete and utter fraud," Hermione said as they walked to their next class. "Not only does she try to read the future from tea leaves-"

"Hermione- that's was Divination _is_." Ron said, cutting in.

"_But_-" Hermione continued, getting louder, "she completely made that up, to make herself look impressive."

Harry couldn't help but snort at that, since impressive was not the word he would have chosen to describe Trelawney's prediction.

Hermione continued. "I had a conversation with Professor McGonagall yesterday, while she was trying to convince me to drop a few classes-"  
"Which you refused to do," Ron added.

"Well- yes. Which I refused to do, because I can handle them- and she said that Trelawney predicts the death of a student _every year_, as a sort of dramatic first-day intimidation tactic. And not one of them has ever died. Well- I mean obviously they died _eventually_, some of them, but not particularly sooner than anyone else."

Then, of course, came Transfiguration, where Hermione's story was verified by McGonagall herself. By the time that was over Ron and Hermione seemed to completely have forgotten about Harry's sleeping troubles. Which, Harry decided, was all for the best. After all, he'd never sleepwalked before in his life and wasn't likely to again. There was no sense in making them worry over one isolated incident. He vowed to put the whole thing behind him. There were more important things to focus on, after all, like doing well in his studies and determining what, exactly, Professor Lupin was up to in the forest. Hopefully it wasn't anything too bad; Harry liked Lupin, and he certainly looked like he was going to be the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher so far; after all, he'd managed to fend off the Dementors on the train, saving Harry's life. Quirrel and Lockheart wouldn't have been capable of that, much less willing. If Lupin wasn't secretly evil, then he would be a brilliant teacher.

It was with great anticipation, therefore, that Harry looked forward to the first Defense class. Everyone walked into the classroom only to walk right out of it again.

"Today's lesson will be a practical one," Lupin said as they walked down the hall. "Now- who can tell me what a boggart is?"

The lesson continued, and Professor Lupin proved to be an even better teacher than Harry had thought he would be. After all- what other teacher could make facing your worst fears not only tolerable, but actually fun?

But Harry never got a chance to face the boggart. Professor Lupin interfered. In the few seconds before the classroom emptied, Harry wondered exactly what the boggart would have become for him. His first thought was of Voldemort, but he dismissed that immediately. Voldemort wasn't a great source of fear, except in those moments Harry was actually face-to-face with him. It wasn't as if Harry stayed up nights worrying about him.

His next thought was of the dementors. But after days of no appetite and a dozen potions shoved down his throat, dementors were starting to seem more like an annoyance than a threat. Before, he'd thought of them as evil, soul-sucking creatures. They'd seemed scary enough, when presented in that light; he was sure he would still be terrified if he came face-to-face with one. But- well, again, he wasn't that afraid of them, on a day-to-day basis. They were, after all, giving him a case of something like the flu, and as much as he tried, Harry couldn't help but snort at the idea of being afraid of a cold, however evil it looked in person.

All of which left Harry with no plausible greatest fear.

Finally, the class emptied out- Harry told Ron and Hermione that he would see them later, at dinner- and he had his chance to speak with Professor Lupin in private.

"Sir," Harry said. "I was wondering- Why didn't you let me have a go fighting the boggart?"

"I thought that would be obvious. I assumed that your boggart would take the shape of Voldemort, and would cause a panic in the classroom."

"Oh," said Harry. "I thought of him first, too. But then- well, I'm not really that afraid of him. And then I thought of dementors, and I know I should be afraid of them, after they nearly killed me on the train, but I'm not. And I can't think of anything worse than them, so I don't know, really, what I'm most afraid of. And I'd like to find out."

Lupin gave him a look of mingled surprise and respect.

"Most people," he said, "end up thinking so hard about terrifying things when they know they are going to encounter a boggart that they make themselves even more afraid."

"That seems pretty silly to me."

"It is. But that's a very mature attitude, for a thirteen-year-old."

Harry shrugged.

"In any case," Lupin continued, "I can arrange for you to get a session with a boggart some time this month. It will take me a few days to find another. Do you have plans next Sunday? At three o'clock?"

"Er- That works, I think."

"Good. I'll see you then."

The next few weeks passed without incident. Harry didn't sleepwalk again, but he did wake in the middle of the night several times, with strange dreams that he couldn't quite recall once he was fully awake. Harry was careful to walk quietly when he left his bed, so that he didn't alert Ron to his sleeping difficulties. Really, it wasn't anyone else's business.

The only real news was that Madame Pomfrey had found the necessary forms to change his guardianship.

"All you need to do," she told him, "is write a letter explaining how those people treat you. You need another letter from an adult, to prove you aren't just causing trouble- I can write that, if you like- and I'll fill out these forms."

"That's it?"

"Well- if the Department of Child Welfare at the ministry deems the case worthy, then it goes to court. Then the Dursleys will have to testify under a truth potion, and your guardianship will change."

"What do you mean 'if they deem it worthy?'?"

"It's a formality. We have enough evidence that they won't even think twice before passing the case through."

"This isn't going to… to make the papers, or anything, is it?"

"No. These cases are strictly confidential. You needn't worry about that. Is it different, with muggles?"

"I don't know."

He finished the last of his potion.

"Off to dinner with you, then. And don't forget to write that letter."

He didn't manage to eat any food at dinner, though, and thought that perhaps he ought to eat less candy, to save room for real food. But then, candy was mostly sugar, and the more calories he got, the better. Since he couldn't eat much, it was probably best that he was having candy instead of something else. And certainly it was more enjoyable. Everything else seemed to have slightly lost its flavor, but chocolate was good. He would have to be careful not to eat all that he had, though. It would be no fun at all to run out.

As it turned out, Harry didn't see Lupin at the time they'd agreed upon; the teacher had problems finding another boggart. It was halfway through October before they were able to meet.

"I'll be standing right here, behind you, in case of trouble," Lupin told him.

Nervously, Harry walked up to the trunk containing the boggart. It would have been easier, in many ways, if he knew what it would be. Perhaps it would simply turn into a dementor, since he couldn't think of anything more frightening. That would be a bit of a disappointment, but he might expect it.

What came out of the trunk, however, was not a dementor. It was a tall man with dark brown hair and pale, sickly-looking skin. He leapt from the trunk, seized Harry by the arm, and dragged him to the other side of the room, away from Lupin. All of this happened so quickly that Harry wasn't even aware of it until he was halfway across the room, arm nearly pulled from its socket. His heart began to beat very fast.

"Who-" he started to ask, but he couldn't continue because at that moment the man grabbed his throat and Harry couldn't breathe.

"Going to get you," the man whispered. "Going to kill you, or do worse…"

By then, however, Lupin had come closer and cast a spell- Harry was too preoccupied at the moment to see what it was- that made the man lessen his grip slightly. Harry took a he gasp of air, though truthfully he hadn't been choked for long.

"Get away from him," Lupin said tersely.

Harry saw the man grin.

"Make me," he said.

There was a brief but violent struggle, which ended when Lupin finally managed to cast a Riddikulus at the man, who turned into a large ginger cat and then exploded.

"Are you hurt?" Lupin asked.

"No- he didn't have me very long. My neck is a bit sore." Harry's heart was still pounding.

Lupin examined Harry's neck, but found no bruises.

"Do you know who that man is?" Lupin asked him with a puzzled expression.

"No. Who was he?"

Lupin frowned. "A very bad man," he said evasively. "He may have been mine- but it's silly to think that my boggart could have changed since this morning-"

"What?"

"That fear must have come from me. I'm sorry; if I had known that would happen, I wouldn't have allowed this lesson."

"But I was closer to it. Why didn't it turn into something for me?"

"I don't know- unless- you're taking Occludus Solution, aren't you? To block out the dementors?"

"Yeah."

"That may have had a role in this. Although the dose you would need to block a boggart out this fully would be stupendous. Do you know how much Madame Pomfrey is giving you?"

"No. It's all mixed in with nutritive potions, so I can't tell how much is there…"

"Nutritive potions?" Lupin asked sharply.

"Er." Harry mentally kicked himself. That was more than he'd meant to say. It was one thing to tell the school nurse, who was going to help him get away from the Dursleys. It was quite another to talk to his teachers about his home life.

"Let's forget I mentioned that, alright?" Harry said weakly.

Lupin shot him a confused and concerned look. "What do you need nutritive potions for?"

"I'm underweight, and she's trying to fatten me up. That's all there is to it."

Clearly seeing that this line of questioning was going nowhere, Lupin frowned.

"Well- I'll have a word with Madame Pomfrey soon about that potion, then. That high a dose can't be healthy… I'll see you in class tomorrow, Harry."

Harry went back to his room and had two candy bars before his session with Pomfrey and dinner. Lupin hadn't talked to her yet- only half an hour had passed, after all- and Harry didn't think of it while he was there.

If he really was getting too high of a dose of the Occludus Solution, then why was he still having such problems eating? Shouldn't that potion be blocking out the dementors easily?

There had to be something else wrong with him, didn't there? Or maybe Lupin had been wrong, and the Harry wasn't getting that much of the potion. Dementors had to be harder to block out than boggarts. Lupin wasn't a healer, after all. He didn't necessarily know what he was talking about.

With that thought in mind, and feeling rather better about the whole mess, Harry did his homework and went to bed. Lupin didn't know what he was talking about. Pomfrey was a healer; she had to know what she was doing. Harry was going to be fine.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, though, Harry had a thought. The boggart hadn't come after Lupin. It had tried to hurt Harry. Why would Lupin's greatest fear be of a man hurting Harry? That didn't make much sense. Harry was just a student, after all. He wasn't special.

Maybe just because Lupin felt responsible for Harry nearly being injured now, and that would make him feel worse than being attacked himself. Certainly Harry would feel terrible if someone else was injured because of him. That boggart probably would have attacked anyone else in the room with Lupin, assuming it could get close enough to someone else without becoming _their_ greatest fear. There was nothing special about Harry himself, then.

Besides- it had succeeded in scaring Harry, too, so that shape had obviously been a good one for it.

That made sense, so Harry finally drifted off.

There were no dreams that night, or at least none that Harry could remember. The next morning he woke near dawn to a beam of sunlight shining painfully in his eyes. He'd forgotten to close the curtains around his bed, and someone had left the ones on the window open as well.

Well. No use trying to sleep now. He went quietly down to the common room, and sat in front of the fire for a while, and tried to do the reading for Transfiguration that he hadn't bothered with the night before. Really, there wasn't that much to do before everyone else was up. Harry was not a solitary person by nature. It was annoying, how he seemed to keep waking at odd hours in the past few weeks. Maybe he ought to tell Madame Pomfrey about the sleeping troubles. She might be able to help, as much as Harry didn't want to bother anyone about it.

Harry went off to his usual pre-breakfast Hospital Wing visit, and had his potion.

"Er- yesterday, I had a sort of make-up lesson with Professor Lupin, and the boggart wouldn't take any shape for me. Professor Lupin seemed to think I might be getting too much Occludus Solution. I thought I ought to mention it."

"What? That can't be right. You aren't getting nearly enough to do that."

"Well- it happened."

"But you're still feeling the effect of the dementors, and the effect from them is much weaker at this distance. I'm not certain what happened with your boggart is unrelated to the potions you're taking."

"Oh. Well, Lupin- Professor Lupin, I mean- might come by about that later. I just thought I'd say something first."

"Quite alright. How are you coming on that letter?"

"I'm working on it. I should be done in a few days."

Madame Pomfrey looked unconvinced, perhaps because this was the same answer he had given a few days ago.

"You really need to write that letter if you want to get away from the Dursleys. I would do it for you if I could, dear, but I can't."

Harry nodded. He had written something, but wasn't at all pleased with it. Honestly, it felt like whining. The Dursleys had never been nice to him, but he didn't feel right calling it outright abuse. After all- they'd never hurt him much. Aunt Petunia had taken the occasional swing at him with her frying pan, and Dudley had chased him around a fair bit when Harry was smaller, but was that really enough to count?

Right now, the letter was at the very bottom of his trunk, next to his secret chocolate supply, where no one snooping around would see it.

"I'm getting it done," he said. "Don't worry."

She gave him another doubtful look before sending him off to breakfast.

Harry didn't eat a single bite all day, the first time since he'd first gone to the Hospital Wing that he'd done so. But then, it wasn't as if he was starving. He had those nasty nutritive potions, after all.

And later that day was Quiddich practice, which drove all thoughts of food, sleep, and letters out of his head. With all the strangeness of being ill, it was nice to know that one thing hadn't changed. The feel of wind rushing past him, the thrill of chasing the snitch- it was still the same. Even better, maybe- Harry managed to catch the snitch six times in the space of an hour, despite terrible weather. Wood gave them all fierce pep talks, despite the fact that their first match wasn't for nearly another month, and all-in-all Harry felt much better when he finally got off his broom and started walking to the castle.

The feeling was short-lived. As the team started walking back to the castle, Professor McGonagall rushed over to them.

"Don't return to the common room- get to the Great Hall. Sirius Black was- and may still be- in the castle."

--

**A/N:**

As for the whole escaping-the-Dursleys process- I imagine real court procedures are _much_ more complicated than this. But wizards have truth potions, so there only has to be enough evidence so that they can justify using those potions. At least, in my thinking. In real life, there are always more complications…

As always, please review- ego-boosts are good, but criticism is even more welcome (at least in theory).


	3. Werewolves

**Chapter 3: Werewolves, or Where in the World is Remus Lupin**

"Sirius Black is in the castle?" Oliver echoed. "But how-"

"We don't know any more, Mr. Wood. I have others to warn. Hurry along."

They hurried.

The Great Hall had been cleared of tables, and there were purple sleeping bags all over the floor. Since it was not yet late, most of the students were sitting on top of their bags, talking. Harry quickly found Ron and Hermione, who had saved him a place.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Black got into the castle somehow- no one knows exactly how- and he tried to get into Gryffindor Tower. He even knew the password, but the Fat Lady wouldn't let him in, so he ripped her to shreds, and ran off."

"But- did they catch him?"

"No. They're still looking, but I don't think they will. Black escaped Azkaban; it isn't likely a bunch of teachers are going to get him, is it?"

Harry shook his head.

Very soon after that, the teachers ordered all the students to bed. Harry couldn't sleep, though. He'd been thinking so hard about trying to eat, and what Lupin was up to in the forest, that he had nearly forgotten that there was a murderer out for his blood. So Black had tried to break into the castle; that just proved that he was dangerous, which Harry had already known.

Long after all the other students had fallen asleep, Harry was still laying awake in his cushy purple sleeping bag. He didn't feel in the least bit tired- which was strange, considering how hard Oliver had driven them all in practice that afternoon. He stayed very still, however; for a heavy sleeper, Ron was very alert to when Harry woke up, lately.

It was that very stillness that led to Harry overhearing a conversation, in the hours when the sun was starting to come up and Harry was feeling almost sleepy, finally.

"Can we be sure it was a kidnapping at all, Albus?" Professor McGonagall's stern voice said. "I want to believe the best about my colleagues, but I can't help wondering…"

"Remus Lupin would not go with Black. He, more than anyone, knows how treacherous Black is."

Harry did not even dare to breathe. Lupin had been kidnapped?

"No. I'm sure you're right. But the two of them were good friends once, and Black- well, he was a charmer. He could make you think night was day, if you let him talk long enough."

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose we can't rule it out. But either way, Remus is in grave danger."

"Is it true? Is Black hiding in the forest?"

"I'm afraid that it is, though of course I can't be certain."

"And- about the others, there?"

"Yes."

"We should call the Aurors. There are ways to deal with rogue-"

"They aren't rogue, but acting with the full approval of their leaders. I'm afraid the political situation here is delicate. To mount a rescue might cause a war."

Footsteps, as another person joined the group. "The dungeons are empty. He's escaped." It was Snape.

"Escaped! Every year more danger. It's almost like the war again. Albus- do you think Black will manage to bring You-Know-Who back?"

"We can only hope he doesn't."

"We should be doing more than hoping. If we called the Aurors-"

"This is hardly the place for a discussion of strategy," Snape cut in. "Unless you _wish_ the children to hear?"

With that, the three teachers left.

Harry did not manage to fall asleep at all that night. Lupin and Black had been friends. But Harry was pretty sure that Lupin wasn't Black's friend now. Black wanted Harry dead, but Lupin had saved his life from the dementors on the train

But why would Black kidnap Lupin? What purpose could that serve? The man was a _teacher_.

Everyone else started to stir, a mass of purple sleeping bags to rise.

"You may all return to your dormitories to shower and change before breakfast," Dumbledore announced. "The danger is gone for the moment. However, I regret to inform you that Professor Lupin has gone missing in all the excitement."

It seemed like the whole castle was talking about Lupin's disappearance, but Harry couldn't share what he'd heard with Ron and Hermione until later. There was no time to be alone; after getting ready for the day, Harry had to dash up to the hospital wing for his potion and a weigh in.

"You aren't gaining fast enough," Pomfrey told him with a worried look. "But you're running short on time, so we'll talk about it before lunch."

Harry got up gratefully. He might have a chance to talk to Ron and Hermione about Black, if he really hurried.

He didn't bother eating breakfast at all, because Ron and Hermione were already finishing up. There wasn't time to waste. Also, the smell of the eggs made him feel slightly ill.

They had only a few minutes before their first class- defense, today. They went to a hall nearby, where no one was at the moment, save a pair of Ravenclaw sixth years who were too involved with each other to notice anything said near them.

Quickly, Harry filled them in on what he had overheard, and told them his reasoning for thinking Lupin had not gone willingly.

"We need to find out what's in the forest," Hermione said. "Everything would make more sense, then."

"Lupin had some sort of protection, he said," Harry mused. "But Black got through it, whatever it was. So it can't have been that good."

But they didn't have any more time to wonder, because it was time for defense.

Harry wondered briefly, as they walked into the room, who would be substituting for the poor kidnapped Lupin. No sooner had he thought this, however, than he saw Snape sitting at the front of the room. Harry made a face. Snape looked no more pleased to see him.

"Find your seats!" he snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor for dawdling."

Harry didn't even bother protesting. All that would get him would be more lost points. He just sat.

"Your usual professor," Snape said with a sneer, as if it was beneath him even to say Lupin's name, "failed to leave notes on his lesson plans."

"Well, _of_ _course_," Hermione muttered to herself. "It wasn't as if he planned to be gone today."

"So today," Snape said. "We will be learning about werewolves."

Hermione's hand shot into the air faster than seemed possible.

"Sir- we were doing hinkipunks. They're in chapter-"

"Ten points for speaking out of turn, Granger."

Hermione's face went pink, but she went silent.

"Get out your books. I want twenty inches on methods of distinguishing werewolves from human beings and ordinary wolves, due Wednesday. Get to work."

There was a sort of muffled groan from Ron, which fortunately Snape did not notice. The class was otherwise quiet.

Harry took his book out and opened it to the chapter on werewolves, which was nearly at the end of the book. He started to read it, but very soon his eyes started to droop. It was warm in the classroom, and there was a beam of sunlight shining on the desk in front of him, and he was so sleepy- if only he'd been able to sleep last night.

He just barely managed to stay awake through the class period, by repeating in his head, over and over, _not in front of Snape_.

Class ended just before lunch, and Harry walked up to the infirmary

"Have a seat," Madame Pomfrey said, bustling about to get a potion for a first-year girl who'd managed to burn her eyebrows off with. "I'll talk to you in a moment, Harry."

There was a wait of several moments, really, as the potion grew the eyebrows too bushy, and Madam Pomfrey had to shrink them again. But finally, the hospital wing was empty.

Madame Pomfrey sat at her desk, which was crowded with papers and empty bottles.

"You haven't gained much weight this week," she said. There was a stern look on her face. "You haven't been eating at all, have you?"

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't taste right. And some things smell bad to me, even though I used to like them. Like eggs. Eggs make me feel ill."

"You need to eat anyway."

"I know. I just can't."

"When was the last time you actually ate anything?"

Harry thought. "Er- yesterday I had a bit of sausage. That was okay."

"Harry- if you were eating like this without the nutritive potions, you could very well kill yourself. As it is- this is meant to be a supplement, not everything you eat. Tell me: do you want to get better? To gain weight?"

"Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"You certainly aren't acting like it. I want to see more effort on your part."

"Alright."

"Good. How are you sleeping?"

"Not well."

"Oh?"

"I couldn't sleep at all last night. Nearly nodded off in defense today…"

"Ah." She jotted down a note in a folder on her desk. "You know- Professor Lupin came in last night, before he was- before he disappeared. He was worried about you."

"Oh," Harry said. "Why?"

"The boggart issue that you'd mentioned. He wanted to know a few things. How much occludus solution you were getting, how much weight you'd lost, so on. I couldn't tell him- there's a matter of patient confidentiality here, you know- but it was sweet of him, don't you think?"

"Yeah. I guess."

Madame Pomfrey studied his face closely. "You know, he was a friend of your father's."

Harry hadn't known, and he wasn't sure why she was telling him this. Lupin was gone. He could have been Harry's own father in disguise, and it wouldn't have mattered.

"There are a lot of people that care about you," she continued. "I just thought you might like a reminder."

"Oh. Alright, then. Can I have my potion, now? I need to go down to lunch."

"Alright, dear. Remember to actually eat something. And finish up that letter. You want to get away from those relatives of yours, don't you?"

Harry nodded, gulped down the potion (it was repulsive, but it always had been, so that was alright) and ran down to the Great Hall, thinking guiltily of the letter still at the bottom of his trunk. He would finish it today. He had to. If he waited much longer, the trial and so on might drag on until summer, and he would have to go back for a while.

As he was walking down the hall, Harry was struck by the implications of what Madame Pomfrey had said. If Lupin had been a close friend of Harry's father, and also of Sirius Black- did that mean Black had been a friend of Harry's father?

If so, that made it doubly wrong of him to go the Voldemort's side. Harry felt a slow anger start to burn in his stomach, and imagined Black in school. He and Lupin and Harry's own father- they might have been like Harry was with Ron and Hermione. Three of them, together, inseperable. And then- how awful it must have been. It would be like if Ron joined Voldemort.

Had James Potter even known? Or had he thought Black was his friend, right up until the end? Maybe they'd grown apart, once James Potter saw how evil his friend had become.

Still- what a rotten thing to do.

Harry ought to have walked down to the Great Hall, to have lunch. He'd promised Madame Pomfrey he would try harder. But he remembered, suddenly, that there were stacks of old yearbooks in the library, on a shelf in the corner. He'd never got around to looking at them, somehow- but maybe there was a clue there, to show if they'd been friends right up to the end.

He went straight to that corner, and tried to figure out when his parents had been in school. He was thirteen- and then there were nine months, presumably, between the wedding and Harry's birth- and then another few years after they got out of school…

Harry's brain was working feverishly, fast but not entirely coherent. It was the lack of sleep, probably. His first guess was a few years off. He found his father, in a dusty picture, on a broomstick about to take off, grinning and making funny faces at the camera. But it was a third year picture, not seventh. The similarity between Harry and the boy in the picture was uncanny; they looked like twins, not father and son. But Harry's skin was paler, and James seemed almost plump when compared with Harry- knobby knees and all. And of course, the eyes were different.

_They didn't wait any time at all once the were out of school_, Harry realized. _They graduated, and I was born… a bit over a year later. They were barely twenty, if that._

He put the book back, and pulled out their seventh year. There was James again, older and thinned out more. He was surrounded by people, but the only one he had eyes for was Harry's mother. They were staring at each other, too absorbed to notice the crowd around them or Harry, looking into the photo. And as Harry stared, they leaned into each other, and James gave Lily a soft kiss.

_Look at me,_ he wanted to say. Just for a minute, look at me instead of each other. But they were only pictures, after all. They couldn't really hear.

He turned the page. There was Lily again, giving a speech and looking a bit flustered. A few more pages, and there was James, piled under three other boys and grimacing at the camera while they drew a huge mustache on his face. One boy was clearly Lupin, though a much younger and healthier looking one- all his hair brown, a huge grin on his face- and there was another boy there, a little heavyset, with small eyes. Harry ignored him, and stared at the fourth boy. He was handsome, in a devil-may-care sort of way. Black hair, muggle leather jacket. He was turned from the camera- he was the one doing the actual drawing on James's face- but every so often he would turn look up, with a huge grin. Sirius Black.

So they had been friends still, then. Had Black been on Voldemort's side even then? Or had he joined him after he left school? Either way- it seemed like Black had stayed, pretending to be the Potters' friend…

Suddenly, Harry realized that he had another source of information- his own photo album. He raced out of the library without even bothering to put the yearbook back. Now that he'd seen the picture of a younger Black, he could swear he'd seen a picture of him before.

Ron and Hermione were not in the tower. No doubt they were still at lunch. Good. Harry had a few minutes, at least, to look at the album alone.

And there- yes, next to James in the wedding picture, there was Black. He'd been the best man. He was standing there, grinning like mad. In the background, Harry could see Lupin, also grinning. Had this been after Black went bad, or before? There just wasn't any way to be sure.

And there, on the next page- Black was holding an infant Harry, next to Lily, who was smiling brightly in her hospital bed. James was nearby, looking more terrified than anything else. And the expression on Black's face- it wasn't evil, or evil a devilish smirk, or anything that Harry could imagine an evil person doing. It was a tender look, a caring look. Almost a parental look.

It had to be after this picture, Harry told himself irrationally. No one on Voldemort's side would look at me like that. They couldn't.

What would have convinced someone to join the wrong side of a war, the opposite side of their best friends? Had Voldemort threatened his family? Made him an offer of something too good to resist? What would have been enough?

The door to the dormitory slammed open, and the wrath of Hermione entered. Harry hastily closed his album and shoved it under his bed to protect it. He'd never seen her looking quite so furious.

"You didn't come to lunch," she said. "Madame Pomfrey told you to eat more, we told you to eat more, but you didn't listen."

"I-" Harry started, but he never got to voice his excuse.

"I brought you some lunch," she said. "And you're going to eat it, now. All of it."

She held out a plate. There was a sandwich on it, and some soup in a little bowl, and some crackers. It wasn't much, but it was still too much.

"I can't," he said.

She set the plate on table next to his bed.

"Harry," she said. "Have you ever heard of anorexia?"

He stared at her for a moment. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. I'm worried about you, Harry."

"I don't think I'm _fat_, Hermione. I know I'm too thin. I'd eat if I could. It just… It's about the least appealing thing I can think of doing, alright?"

She gave him a look, and suddenly burst into tears. Harry had no idea what to do. He felt like he ought to give her a hug, or say something comforting, but settled for patting her awkwardly on the arm.

"It's okay," he said, as reassuringly as he could, considering he had no idea what she was crying about.

"It is not," she said. She stopped crying long enough to glare at him. "Are you going to eat it, or not?"

Harry picked up the plate, and took a spoonful of soup. It was too salty, but he drank it down anyway. Soup wasn't that bad, really. It was better than anything else he'd tried to eat. He managed to down half the bowl.

"There," he said. "I've eaten lunch. Are you happy?"

"No. You need to eat all of it." But she wasn't crying anymore.

Harry gave the sandwich a queasy look, and made a face.

"What is it about this that bothers you?" Hermione asked. "It's a sandwich. You've eaten them hundreds of times. I purposely chose things without a strong odor or taste, since you seem to be avoiding those."

Harry wasn't sure how to explain it. It wasn't that the sandwich was bad. It was a perfectly good sandwich. It just didn't appeal to him. It was like not being in the mood for something, only a hundred times worse. He looked at the bread, and every instinct he had was screaming "Not today, thanks very much."

"The soup is okay," he said once it was clear Hermione wanted an answer. "I could eat a little more of that, maybe."

"That isn't what I asked."

"I don't know. It just… doesn't look good, I guess."

"So what does look good?"

"Nothing."

"But you go for some foods more than others."

To his horror, Hermione took out a little notebook.

"You've been taking notes on what I _eat_?"

"Of course. Now- you had a little sausage the other day, and you've had some water or juice at nearly every meal. Soup is okay, but I haven't seen you eat any bread at all this year. Does the texture bother you?"

"What?"

Hermione continued on. "You drink your potion willingly enough, but almost nothing solid. You prefer liquids. Am I right?"

"Er- yeah, I guess."

She wrote something. Harry was beginning to feel like he was in the infirmary again. He took another spoonful of soup.

"But I don't know what any of this _means_," Hermione said, distressed. "What illness makes avoid eating until you starve?"

"I'm not starving."

"You would be without Madame Pomfrey force-feeding you potions."

"I'm not that bad."

"You are.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"So you don't think it's the dementors, then?" Harry asked, ending the childish moment.

"No. Do you?"

Harry thought for a minute. Even with the potions, he wasn't able to eat any more. "I guess not," he admitted.

"I think it might be a curse," Hermione said. "Cast by Sirius Black."

"If Black could curse me, don't you think he'd pick something more deadly?"

"Maybe he couldn't. Or- I don't know. Azkaban is a really awful place. Maybe he's gone completely insane, and this is some plot of his that doesn't make sense to anyone but him. You'd have to be at least a bit mad to follow You-Know-Who anyway, don't you think?"

Harry was still not fully convinced. "I don't know," he said. "When would he have done it?"

"Well, we know he can get into the castle. It could have been anytime. When you were walking to a class, or something."

"I don't like this. If we assume he's gone mad, we can't assume he has motives. We can't try to figure out his strategy, or anything. That isn't a good assumption to start out with."

"Oh," Hermione said, sucking on the end of her quill as she thought. "That's a good point."

It was so rare that Hermione admitted she was wrong about something. Harry basked in the glow of it for a moment.

"Where's Ron?" he asked, suddenly noticing his other best friend's absence.

"Oh. He's still eating. I left early. I thought you might be here."

There was something left unspoken in that statement, but Harry couldn't quite work out what.

"We only have a few minutes until charms," Harry said. "Maybe we should start walking."

He grabbed one of his candy bars. There were about a dozen left. Well, the first Hogsmeade weekend was coming up in a couple of weeks. He could get more there.

"You're going to eat that?" Hermione asked. "You won't eat a sandwich, but chocolate is just fine?"

"I'm always in the mood for chocolate," Harry said with a grin. "Just don't mention it to Ron, alright? This is my secret stash."

"How often do you have one of those? That isn't a brand I've ever seen."

"Pretty much every day. I like them."

Hermione got a very thoughtful, suspicious look. "Where did you get them?"

"Diagon Alley, before school started. Why?

"Can I have one?"

"Er- I guess. Here." He tossed one to her. She didn't eat it, though; merely tucked it into her bag.

They went to Charms, and Harry soon realized that Ron and Hermione had had some sort of fight. Neither said a word to the other as the class went on. After Charms came Divination, where they had moved on to crystal balls.

"There's going to be fog tonight," Ron muttered to Harry. Harry snorted, and continued staring into his own cloudy ball. He hadn't seen a thing in it so far.

He sneezed. The incense in the room really was far too strong. It would be so much more pleasant in the room if he could open up a window.

"What do you see?" Trelawney asked him from behind him, in an airy voice. "Have you been granted a vision of the future?"

Harry had no desire to play nice today. In his most grave tone, he said: "I see- _death_!"

She gave a little shriek. "Surely not!"

Hermione snorted, and Ron laughed outright.

"_Death_," Harry said again. "Horrible- too horrible to speak of."

"Tell us more," Trelawney said, loudly enough that the entire class was looking over at them.

"Er- No, it is too awful. For no mortal must know the hour of their own death, lest life itself become too dreadful to abide."

Hermione gave another snort. Probably she had recognized the exact quote from _Unfogging the Future_.

"I see it too!" Ron said, squinting into the depths of Harry's crystal ball. He made a face. "Urgh. I wouldn't want to be you, Harry. Look what happened to your _face_."

No one was even pretending to pay attention to their own crystal balls anymore."Horror!" Trelawney shouted. "Despair!"

Hermione peered into her own ball, apparently determined to ignore the spectacle before her. "Oh dear," she muttered, just loudly enough so that her voice carried. Her face went pale. She stared at Trelawney, then the ball, and back. "Oh, no," she said.

Trelawney rushed over to her. "You, too, have had a vision? Class, the vibrations in this room are strong today! All of you hurry! Gaze into the depths."

"You aren't going to make it," Hermione said, huge fake tears in her eyes. "Oh, Professor- I'm so sorry…"

A look of genuine fear stole across Trelawney's face. "What happens to me?"

"I can't say. Oh, it's too awful."

Ron snickered a little, but managed to turn it into a cough before Trelawney noticed.

"You've been beheaded," Neville said with a frightened look on his face. Probably the fear was more from defying a teacher than in his own prophetic gifts.

Trelawney went quite pale, and toppled over, hitting her head on one of the many small tables scattered throughout the room.

"Do you think that was a bit much?" Hermione whispered nervously. "I didn't want her to hurt herself."

"She deserved it," Ron said. "Don't you remember- she tried to do that to Harry, first day of classes."

Hermione nodded, but still looked guilty. Lavender was glaring at them all.

"If you feel bad about it," Harry said, "you could go get Madame Pomfrey to come look at her. But she'll probably wake up any second now. I don't think she's hurt badly."

"You don't know that! Head wounds can be very serious; she might be concussed!"

But the professor started to stir at that very moment. "Oh," she moaned. "What happened? Have I- have I had a _vision_?"

"You fell over and hit your head," Lavender said, rushing to the Professor's side and shooting another glare at Harry and his friends. "Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

Trelawney sat heavily in the armchair nearest her. "There is no need to worry. My inner eye informs me that I will be fine. Gather your things. I fear the atmosphere has been disturbed, and no further visions will come to all of us. Class is dismissed."

That was the last class of the day, but there was still a good amount of time before dinner. Harry would have preferred to use it to sleep- he was still exhausted- but Hermione was starting the werewolf essay and he was sure he would need help. Better to do it at the same time, so that she wouldn't get mad at him for putting it off.

The trio sat in the common room to work, surrounded by books Hermione had gotten somewhere.

"I've been doing some work already," Hermione said. "But I've been having trouble finding ways to distinguish werewolves from humans."

Harry wondered briefly when Hermione had had time to do any research, but ignored the illogic of it. Hermione was managing to attend three classes at once. A little research while she'd been in plain sight was nothing.

"Is there some sort of full-moon spell?" Harry asked. "That you could shine on them, and see if they changed?"

"No. People have tried to make one, but real moonlight has magical properties that can't be reproduced in a spell."

"Are they… I don't know, hairier, or something?"

"Well, our textbook says that their knuckles are sometimes hairier, but was looking at _The Complete Book of Dangerous Creatures_, which is more recent, and it says that isn't right. It doesn't mention any way you actually can tell them apart, though."

"Maybe there isn't one. Wouldn't that be like Snape, to give an essay on something impossible?"

"Maybe. There's quite a lot about distinguishing real wolves from transformed ones, though."

"Well, good. Hand over that book."

Harry busied himself reading the passage Hermione had found in _The Complete Book of Dangerous Creatures._

"The werewolf is among the most fearsome of beasts, though it is only dangerous during full moons… This is all the same stuff as in the textbook."

"It has more details."

Harry kept reading, but silently.

**Curse Transmission:**

Bites by a werewolf in wolf form spread the curse of lycanthropy, and this is the most common way for infection. Less common are ingestion of werewolf blood and the accidental injection of werewolf blood into uninfected humans. (See _Medical Muddles: Why Doctors and Magic Don't Mix _for a full account of the werewolf blood donation crisis of the 1970s.) Even untransformed werewolves can spread the curse via blood, and for this reason werewolf blood is a highly regulated substance. Contrary to popular belief, in human form, werewolf saliva is not a vehicle for disease transmission.

The curse can spread to a variety of animals as well as to humans. Wolves are the most commonly bitten, as they are sometimes mistaken for rival werewolves. Much less commonly, dogs or large cats may be bitten. The more wolf-like in appearance the animals appear, the more likely they are to be attacked. Infected animals must be killed at once, as they are capable of spreading the curse at all times via bite, and become aggressive. No non-magical animal yet studied has any innate resistance, but most magical animals are immune to the werewolf's curse- in fact, out of all magical creatures, the only one yet found to be susceptible to the werewolf's curse is wizardkind. Wizards with a mixed magical background, such as part-goblins or half-centaurs, are often, though not always, immune, as their innate magic is able to fight off the curse. Individuals affected with another transferable curse, such as vampires, are also immune. In this case, the curse of vampirism acts as innate magic does, and prevents the lycanthropic curse from taking hold.

Harry stopped reading, and remembered what Lupin had said when he'd been injured- _I can't possibly be infected_. Not _It _can't be infected, but _I_. And he'd sounded unhappy about it- bitter almost.

"Ron," Harry said. "Is there some pureblooded thing about people who're part magical creature- like half… giant, or something?"

"Yeah. It's like being against Muggleborns- lot of people are idiots about it. Why?"

Harry pushed the book over.

"Lupin said something, when he was injured that day. He said 'I can't be infected.' And he didn't sound happy about it."

He paused for a moment as Hermione and Ron took in the implications.

"I think," he said finally, "that we might have werewolves in the forest. And Lupin was safer than anyone else- he said so. So he maybe he wasn't entirely human."

"He could have been a vampire," Ron said.

"No," Hermione said. "He had some grey hair. Vampires don't show signs of age."

"What if he was old when he was turned into a vampire? Already with grey hair?"

"It doesn't matter. Grey hair, wrinkles- all those things go away, when a vampire is made. Besides- I've seen him walk by a sunny window. If he were a vampire, he'd have been seriously hurt."

"Well, then- what could he be?"

"Well, anything," Ron said. "Far back enough, most wizarding families have some creature blood. No one likes to talk about it, though, even when it's really obvious. I can't see why he'd be upset about it."

"He didn't sound upset, really. Just… not happy, you know?"

"Maybe that's right, then. And you know- that would fit with everything else, too. If werewolves are gathering in the forest, of course Dumbledore would want to take care not to make them mad."

"And when Lupin was there, he saw too much. They were hinting that someone might have joined the werewolves, only they didn't say they were werewolves. I bet it was Black. He's joined up with them, and then they ordered him to take Lupin from the castle."

"That would mean Lupin was right outside the castle, in the forest."

They all turned, as one, to the window. Through it, they could see the forest. But there wasn't anything there to suggest dangerous creatures were in it- or rather, nothing more than usual. After all, it was forbidden for a reason.

"Werewolves in the forest," Hermione said, quietly. "What are they thinking, letting such dangerous creatures so close?"

They had exhausted all the clues at their disposal, so they went back to working on their essays for a while before dinner. Harry managed a little bit of pumpkin juice and some salty stew, and then went off to bed early.

He dreamed of the man Lupin's boggart had turned into, but in his dream the man was bigger, and there was no Lupin there to save him this time. The man lunged, and as he did, Harry remembered what he had learned today. The people in the forest were werewolves. The man coming towards him was a werewolf.

In real life, Harry had always been able to fight any danger that faced him, or at least run away. In the dream, he was rooted to the place he stood. And the werewolf was snarling, going for his throat- and then the words from the book he'd been reading earlier popped into his head.

_Contrary to popular belief, in human form, werewolf saliva is not a vehicle for disease transmission._

_Ha!_ Harry thought. _It can't hurt me right now._

But then the werewolf stopped, and laughed. Harry realized he had spoken aloud.

"Can't hurt you?" The werewolf asked. It leaned in close. Harry had expected foul breath, but really there wasn't a scent at all. For a monster, it was impeccably clean- almost sterile.

"I don't need to bite you," it said. "Don't you remember?"

It took out a thin little knife, and cut open its palm. Then it took Harry's hand- and Harry still couldn't move, as if he were under a spell. The werewolf made a shallow cut there, too.

"Of course it isn't as fast, this way," the werewolf said. "It might take months. But there isn't a way to stop it."

"What-" Harry started to ask. He cut off in horror as he realized what was happening. The werewolf had made its bleeding hand into a fist, squeezing out one drop of blood onto Harry's wound.

"You'd think it would be faster, putting it directly into your blood," it said, chattering inanely as it finished and bandaged up Harry's hand, "But this is actually a slower process than the other way."

Finally, Harry was able to move. He jerked his hand away, and backed up until he hit a wall. "Get away from me," he said shakily. "Get away!"

The werewolf laughed, and as Harry stared at the pale face in front of him, he realized there was no escape.

Harry awoke with his heart beating very fast, but managed not to cry out. Merlin! What a terrible dream. He found himself peering at his hand in the dark, just to make sure it hadn't happened. But his hand was whole and unbandaged. It hadn't happened. It was just a stupid dream.

"Are you alright?" Ron mutted blearily from the next bed over.

"Fine. Go back to bed."

Harry fell asleep again, but didn't have any more bad dreams.

**A/N:**

Alright! Third chapter finished. It's amazing what boredom (Read: a week stuck at a farm with no internet) can do.

Reviews are nice! They brighten up my day. If you've reviewed, thank you! If you haven't, what are you waiting for?


	4. Unicorns

**Chapter 4: Unicorns**

Any questions Harry, Ron, and Hermione had about Lupin had to wait. Snape had taken over as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he was giving an abominable amount of homework. Since he was missing from Potions, a new professor named Slughorn had taken over that class. As if that wasn't enough, Hagrid had gone as well, and his position was being filled by Professor Grubbly-Plank, who Harry maintained (aloud, at any rate) wasn't half the teacher Hagrid was.

Hermione had taken Hagrid's absence as more evidence for Harry's theory. There had to be someone, she pointed out, to communicate with the werewolves in the forest, now that Lupin was gone. And Hagrid obviously had more than a touch of giant in him, now that they knew what they were looking for. He would be able to go into the forest without so much danger. Also- Hagrid was so large that he was unlikely to be hurt.

"Lupin didn't miss classes when he was communicating with them."

"Well- Hagrid can't do much magic. Maybe it's harder for him to get there. They could be deep in the forest."

_Or maybe,_ Harry thought, _he's been stolen away, too_. _Or just killed_. But this seemed even more unlikely; surely Dumbledore would make some sort of announcement if another teacher went missing.

The second lesson of Professor Grubbly-Plank's presence featured unicorns.

"They don't care for boys as much as girls," she said. "So the gentlemen in the class will want to stay back at first."

Harry stayed obediently to the back of the group, standing next to Ron as a flock of girls cooed over the unicorn foals.

"Unicorns aren't all _that_ interesting," Ron said crossly. "_Girls_."

Harry nodded empathetically. "Although it's nice to see them… you know. Alive. Not like first year…" The memory of dead unicorns wasn't in Harry's top ten worst, but it certainly wasn't pleasant to recall.

"Well, there isn't You-Know-Who in the forest this year. The unicorn mortality rates have gone right down now he's gone, I reckon."

Harry nodded.

"Alright, boys. You can come forward a bit! Don't be shy- they won't bite!"

The class laughed a bit, and the boys came closer to the unicorns.

Hermione was kneeling next to one of the babies, her robes pooled around her and an adoring grin on her face.

"Isn't he adorable?" Hermione said, rubbing the unicorn gently near its nose.

But as Harry and Ron got nearer, the silvery baby unicorn made a scared little whinnying noise.

"Oh, you poor thing. What's the matter?"

It got louder, and stood up with a panicked speed. Another unicorn, much larger, came over. _Probably its mother,_ Harry thought. _Coming over to see what the matter is._

The mother unicorn briefly brushed faces with the younger, and then turned to face Harry. The younger unicorn quieted.

There was a peaceful, collected look in the mother unicorn's eyes. Very deliberately, it turned and it walked away from him, leaving heavy hoof-prints in the mossy ground. The baby followed.

Hermione sighed. "Well, the professor did say they didn't like boys very much."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, a little annoyed.

The mother unicorn turned back, a few yards further, and gave him a much less peaceful look.

And then it began to charge. By the time Harry had recovered enough from the surprise, it was too late. It was only a few feet away. Unicorns were fast.

It ran him completely through the shoulder. The pain was worse than anything Harry had ever felt; worse even than being bitten by a basilisk. He'd been pumped full of adrenaline then, and prepared to die. And the basilisk fang hadn't burned like the unicorn horn did. He clutched at it a bit, but was already too weak to do anything, as if his strength had been drained the instant his shoulder was pierced.

He lost the use of his legs, then. They crumpled under him, and he stood for a moment supported by the very horn that had impaled him. Then he slid off it- which, if anything, was more painful than the stabbing had been and collapsed onto the ground, shirt rapidly becoming scarlet. He heard someone say "Get it away- it's going at him again-" and then, finally, the world went black.

--

Harry woke in the hospital wing, still in rather a lot of pain. His shoulder was bandaged, but it was obvious he had lost a lot of blood. It had even leaked through the bandage a little.

He tried to sit up and quickly realized his mistake. His head swam- _how much blood did I lose?_- and he blacked out again.

It felt like only a second later when he woke again, but it had been longer; the shadows on the wall had moved, and he was directly in a beam of sunshine, which was unpleasantly warm. He scooted out of it- slowly, because his shoulder was still painful-and only then realized that Ron and Hermione were next to his bed.

"Harry!" Hermione said, obviously restraining herself from hugging him.

"You managed to handle a dragon without getting hurt, first year." Ron said. "Giant spiders? No problem. Three-headed dogs, fine. You face a basilisk and get bitten, but survive. But faced with a unicorn- a bloody _unicorn_- you nearly die. How do you do it, Harry?"

He tried to shrug, and winced. "I still feel like I've been stabbed. And it _burns_." In fact, it wasn't just his shoulder that hurt; he felt fevered,

Madame Pomfrey came in at that moment. "Oh, good. You're awake. Out, you two. I need to talk to him for a while."

With worried backwards glances, Ron and Hermione left. Harry was sure they were waiting just outside the door.

"How are you, dear?" she asked, taking the seat Ron had just vacated.

Harry repeated what he had said to Hermione. "Why didn't you heal it yet?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed.

"It's a bit complicated," she said. "How much do you know about unicorns?"

"Not much," he admitted.

"Well," she said. "There are only a few reasons why a unicorn would run someone through like that. They might be defending themselves from an attacker, or they might be attacking one of a dozen or so dark creatures- vampires, transformed werewolves and the like. The other reason is that it was trying to heal you of a strong dark curse."

"Heal? That didn't feel like healing to me. And what dark curse?"

"Unicorn horns have healing properties, which work best when the horn is in direct contact with afflicted blood. As for a curse- well, I think it's unlikely that your appetite loss is due to Dementors. The Occludus potion isn't working."

Harry nodded.

"I'm having a specialist from Saint Mungo's come in to look at you, next Tuesday. That was the earliest she was available. Let me check that shoulder again; it shouldn't be hurting you. But as for why I didn't attempt to heal you- outside magic will interfere with what the unicorn did, and if it's counteracting the curse- whatever that might be- I'd rather leave it alone for now."

Madame Pomfrey busied herself with bandages for a while. Harry didn't look at the wound. The sight of blood was giving him an unsettled feeling- strange, because usually it didn't bother him. Merlin knew he'd seen a lot of it in his life, with the adventures he sort of fell into, and because he'd grown up in the same house as Dudley.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

"Only a few hours. Compared to some of your other stays here, you've recovered quite nicely. It wasn't such a bad injury."

Harry wanted very badly to disagree.After all, he'd woken up fully healed from every other major encounter. But he didn't say anything.

"It looks fine," Madame Pomfrey said. "Clean. No bits of horn in it, or bit of anything else. I can't think why it would hurt."

She felt his forehead and frowned. "You're a bit warm, though," she said. "Perhaps you'd better rest for a while."

Harry didn't feel tired, but he complied, laying his head down. "It's too bright," he said. "I can't fall asleep like this."

She put a screen around his bed, and must have cast a spell, as well, because a moment later most of the light was gone.

Somehow, he fell asleep right away. He woke a few times in the night, restless, but always managed to sleep again.

In the morning- or the afternoon, as it turned out, since he'd slept so late- his shoulder hurt worse than before. He didn't look at the wound when Madame Pomfrey checked the bandages, but he saw her frown from the corner of his eye.

"What?" he asked, turning his head and accidentally getting a glimpse. It wasn't bleeding, but… Urgh. It was red and swollen, like an enormous pussy mosquito bite. He turned away quickly.

"I think," Madame Pomfrey said, "that I'm going to heal this after all. I can't imagine that the benefits you're getting outweigh the pain…"

She looked worried, but dabbed a foul-smelling potion on the wound. It stung, and Harry hissed a bit at the pain.

A moment later, his shoulder felt better. He gave it an experimental shrug.

"Great," he said. "Can I go now?"

"No," she said. "You're going to write that letter now." She gestured at the table next to the bed, which he saw had parchment, ink, and quills on it.

"Oh," he said. "Er- right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"I have it started, in my trunk. I could go…"

"No. You're going to write the entire thing, now. I don't want you running around. You're staying for the next few hours so that I can keep an eye on that shoulder."

This seemed a bit made-up to Harry. When had he ever had to stay after being healed, before?

"I feel fine," he said. "I could manage a run to my trunk."

"I'm the healer, and I say you aren't fine yet. Get to work."

So, giving her a slightly dirty look, Harry did.

It shouldn't have been hard. It really shouldn't have been. He knew what he needed to put in the letter. It was just… awkward. When he got right down to it, he was horribly uncomfortable telling complete strangers about his home life. He wasn't even sure why he'd told Madame Pomfrey.

But it had to be done. So, with no idea of where to start, Harry just wrote:

_Until my Hogwarts letter came, I lived in the cupboard under the stairs._

The rest was easier.

By the time he'd finished, it was past dinner time. Madame Pomfrey gave him a bowl of soup, but he couldn't bring himself to eat any of it. It was more than his usual slight disgust at the food; just the smell of it turned his stomach.

"I can't," he told Pomfrey. "I just can't."

She took it away. "The curse specialist will be here in fewer than two weeks. I hope she finds out what the matter is."

Harry nodded glumly.

"You can go back to Gryffindor tower," she said, "if you feel up for it."

Harry nodded again. He was tired, and inexplicably sore all over, as if he'd been pummeled all day instead of sitting in bed, sleeping or writing.

"I'll do that," he said, staggering a little as he got to his feet. If Madame Pomfrey noticed, she didn't let on.

He walked back to the common room and saw Ron and Hermione sitting in a corner, arguing.

"Well, don't blame me when you have to stay up all night to finish it, because you couldn't be bothered- Oh, hi, Harry."

"Hi."

She handed him a stack of papers and books.

"Here. I made copies of the notes you missed, and wrote down the work you need to do. And the books I used are here, too; I already finished. Don't forget to return them to the library when you're finished."

"Er- thanks."

"I expect the teachers will understand if you're a bit late, though."

But though he was sore, Harry didn't feel tired at all.

"I'll just do it now," he said. "What is there?"

He had to write an essay for Defense, on yet another magical being and how to distinguish them from a human, as well as defense against them. They'd done werewolves already, and veela. Now, apparently, it was time for vampires. Snape wasn't going easy on them at all.

Harry picked up one of the books Hermione had given him, and turned to the page on vampires. The page was brown and the book smelled unpleasantly musty.

_And what do we say of the vampire, foulest of all magical beasts? Other creatures have the excuse of poor intellect; for all the damage a werewolf or a manticore might do, they are ultimately to be pitied. The vampire, however, retains his full intelligence, and so bears the full blame for all of his abominable crimes against humanity, too numerous to list in full. From drinking the blood of humans to petty theft, no foul deed is too large or small for a vampire._

_So monstrous is his soul that he cannot even stand the purifying light of day. Truly, the vampire is evil, more vermin than human, and intentions to exterminate him can be nothing but good._

_The art of vampire hunting is dangerous but most rewarding…_

Harry shut the book. _On the Hunting of Beasts_, it was called. He didn't care for it much. It seemed… When he came into the wizarding world, it had been an escape from that sort of thing- from hatred, and being called a freak. And those things- but only for him. Everywhere he turned, there were new ways people still hated and hurt. They hated them for being muggle, for being not as bright, for being too bright entirely. And here was yet another way, right here. Vampires were probably just like other people. The writer of this book had probably been someone like Uncle Vernon. No- Uncle Vernon wouldn't know what half of the words meant. Someone like Lucius Malfoy, then- someone who looked reasonable but wasn't.

Also, the author had clearly never encountered a dementor, if the line about the "foulest of all magical beasts" part was what he actually believed.

The official school textbook was less poisonous and more helpful, listing distinguishing characteristics (pale, thin, strong, fast) and weaknesses but making no other comments.

_Vampires have highly developed senses of smell, sight, and touch. Strong offensive odors and bright light are often enough to deter them. Garlic is highly utilized for this purpose, and sunlight has long been known to overpower vampire eyes, leaving them unable to see for hours and sometimes causing permanent damage._

_Because of this intolerance, they rarely venture outside during the daylight hours, resulting in the typical pale skin. Other common physical characteristics include sharp teeth and a slender body, though there are variations among vampires as there are with humans._

Harry wrote the paper and went to bed.

At breakfast; the smell of bacon and eggs, once so appealing, made him feel ill. He only barely managed to choke down the nutritive potion beforehand, and that was because Pomfrey had glared at him.

It didn't help that Malfoy was doing impressions of Harry being attacked by a unicorn and fainting dramatically.

"Honestly," Hermione muttered. "He wouldn't be laughing if it had happened to him."

"I can't believe he's laughing at all," Ron said. "It was pretty gruesome. That's a bit low, even for Malfoy."

"Well, he hasn't had anything to mock since the beginning of term," Harry commented. "He's probably getting a bit desperate."

Hermione put some eggs on a plate and put it in front of Harry. "Eat," she said.

Harry looked at the plate. "Er- I'm not feeling up to it, today."

She gave him a glare worse than even Pomfrey could summon. He took a bite, and immediately wished he hadn't. They tasted awful.

He made a face, then swallowed.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

Harry could tell the others at table were purposefully not paying attention. It was embarrassing. He took another bite, swallowing as fast as possible so he could avoid tasting them.

"Do these taste all right to you?" he asked. Ron took a bit off his plate and chewed thoughtfully.

"They're good."

After about two more bites, Harry began to feel sick to his stomach.

"I'm going up to get my book," he said. "I forgot it."

The look Hermione gave him was disappointed and concerned. Ron just looked bewildered. Harry felt a brief but strong surge of anger at both of them.

He went back to the tower and sat on his bed.

Really, this situation was awful. Not so much being ill; that he could handle. He'd faced worse. It was the way Hermione lectured him and Ron stared, the way Madame Pomfrey kept shoving potions at him and nothing helped.

He felt another wave of nausea, much worse than when he'd eaten the last bite of egg. He managed to get to the toilet before throwing up- just barely.

_There goes the nutritive potion_, he thought, staring into the toilet bowl with mild disgust.

It was strange; the very thought of eating made him feel ill, but the smell of vomit was only unpleasant. He flushed the toilet, walked to the sink, and rinsed his mouth out. He looked into the mirror. The image that looked back at him didn't look ill at all. Just a little thin, and a bit pale; he needed to get more sunlight.

No one would be able to guess that he'd just been sick, if he didn't tell them.

It was a powerful realization. Why tell, when it would just make them worry and nag? Ron and Hermione didn't need to know. Madame Pomfrey- well, he'd still tell her. She was trying to make him better.

Taking one last look at himself, he left the bathroom and grabbed the book that he needed. He started down the stairs, feeling oddly cheerful.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Ron was at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm fine."

"Alright. Good. You were just up there a long time, and Hermione was starting to worry. We'd better hurry, we're going to be late."

Harry threw up several times over the next week, but he hesitated to bring it up with Madame Pomfrey. It wasn't as if he was dying; he mostly kept things down. And he didn't _feel_ bad at all, other than right after meals. He was fine.

Besides, the first Hogsmeade visit was coming up. What if she decided he needed to stay in the hospital wing? He wouldn't get to go.

He would tell her after Hogsmeade. It was only a few days.

**A/N:**

Yes, Harry has his Hogsmeade permission slip. That was intentional. You'll see why… Mwahaha!

Um. Yes. Anyway. Please review!


	5. Vampires

**Chapter 5: Vampires**

The day of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry didn't even manage to keep his nutritive potion down, though he got away from the hospital wing and into an empty bathroom before he threw up.

He was going to have to tell Madame Pomfrey this evening. It wasn't going to be pleasant at all when she realized he'd been keeping it from her, but it was worth it. Hogsmeade…

The air was brisk, but the day was sunny- almost too sunny, in Harry's opinion- and Harry walked cheerfully to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione.

"We should go to Honeyduke's," Ron said. "They have the best chocolate- and all sorts of other things, too." Then he stopped suddenly, and glanced at Harry as though he had said something wrong.

"You can talk about food," Harry said, a little annoyed. "I'm having trouble eating it, not talking about it. And I do want to go to Honeyduke's. I can get some more chocolate- I'm almost out, and I haven't had any problems eating it."

Then he realized that Ron didn't know about his secret chocolate supply.

"Oh," Ron said. "Your secret chocolate supply. Restocking, eh?"

"You know about it?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. We all did, after Seamus tried to take one and it nearly bit his hand off."

"What?" Harry asked. "Are you saying my chocolate is cursed?"

"Well- yeah. You didn't know?"

"It never tried to bite me."

"Where did you say you got it, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"In Diagon Alley. When we were shopping for our school things."

"But- which shop?"

"Er-" There was a long pause. "I don't remember." In fact, now that he was pressed, he couldn't quite remember buying them.

"You don't remember," Hermione repeated.

Desperately, Harry tried to recall any detail about buying the chocolate. What day had it been? Where had Ron and Hermione been? He'd hardly been separated from them the whole time he'd shopped, and surely they would remember if they'd been with him. Some part of his brain was thinking, very insistently, that he'd bought them in Diagon Alley. The rest of it was insisting that he couldn't have- and besides, hadn't they been in his trunk when he got to the Leaky Cauldron, before he'd done any shopping at all? He'd had one then.

"I don't…" Harry said. "I might have bought them before that. I can't… It was in Diagon Alley. I know it was."

Hermione gave him a sharp look. "Harry," she said. "Can you tell me everything that happened to you, from- oh, a day or so before Diagon Alley?"

"I stayed in my room every day at the Dursleys. I went to Diagon Alley. I got a room at the Leaky Cauldron…"

"How did you get to Diagon Alley?"

"I- I don't know."

They stopped walking.

"What's the last thing you can remember at the Dursleys, Harry?"

"I… Aunt Marge was going to come over. With her dog. But I… I never saw her."

"Why didn't you see her?"

"I don't know. I was in my room every day for the whole summer, until I went to Diagon Alley." But he couldn't remember doing that, really.

Hermione's eyes had gone very wide.

"Something's the matter with me, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"I think you've been memory charmed," Hermione said. "I looked up what the effects are, over the summer. I thought it might be useful to know about, after I saw the damage Lockhart could do. What was the date, when your aunt was going to come?"

"July 31," he said. "On my birthday…"

"We have to tell Dumbledore," Ron said. "That's a lot of time to be missing."

"Let's go to Hogsmeade first," Harry said, a bit desperately. "I'm not going to die of a memory charm." He'd withheld information from Pomfrey for days in order to come here. He wasn't about to give it up.

"If you're sure," Hermione said, looking worried. "But when we get back, we'll go straight to his office."

"Of course," Harry said.

But with one more mystery hanging over his head, the day's activities became much less enjoyable. The joy of getting more chocolate was dampened by the thought of the remaining two chocolate bars in his trunk- chocolate bars that had taken on bizarrely sinister implications.

Who would memory charm Harry? What had happened to him over the summer? It had to do with why he was ill, he knew. There was no way the events were unconnected. But he had no idea what had been done to him, or how to fix it.

Still, he was determined to ignore the events going on. He was tired of being treated like an invalid, of having things go wrong. He was going to have fun for once even if it killed him.

So he loaded his arms with almost every sort of sweet, even the strange ones like cockroach cluster and blood-flavored lollipops. He probably wouldn't eat most of it (would eat almost none of it, to be honest), but he could share. He bought galleons worth of jokes from Zonko's, too.

"We do get to come back sometime," Ron said, looking at the bags Harry was holding with amusement. "You don't have to buy a whole year's worth in one day."

Harry shrugged, and grinned. "Well, if you don't want me to share…"

Ron mock-punched him, and Harry mock-punched him back (hampered slightly by the huge bag in his hand). Soon they were engaged in an elaborate food fight, throwing bits of cockroach cluster at each other while Hermione looked on with an irritated expression.

Really, nothing could be wrong, Harry decided as he spat out a bit of disgusting candy that Ron had tossed at him. The memory charm and being ill would all turn out to be some plot- that was obvious- but they'd work it out and fix it and everything would be alright again.

After all- really bad news couldn't come on a day when you had a food-fight with your best friend.

--

"What?" Madame Pomfrey asked, after Hermione started to explain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided it was a better idea to tell her first, and let her tell Dumbledore.

"A memory charm. Over nearly half his summer."

"You didn't notice that you were missing over a month of memories?" Madame Pomfrey said, her tone disbelieving.

"Well- it isn't as through my summers are eventful," Harry pointed out. "All I do is my homework and chores. And it isn't as if it's just a _blank_ for those months…"

"And he can't remember where he bought the chocolate bars he's been eating all year," Hermione interrupted eagerly. "I grabbed one- here."

She handed it to Madame Pomfrey, whose face was slowly taking on a look of comprehension. "The chocolate-"

"Which he hasn't had any problems at all eating," Hermione said. "Unlike about everything else."

Madame Pomfrey turned the chocolate bar over in her hands. "There are a very limited number of curses and poisons that could be put in chocolate," she said. "It has its own very specific magical properties. But I'll run some tests on it. It could be helpful."

Hermione nodded quickly.

"And of course," Madame Pomfrey added, "You shouldn't have any more of it until we're sure it's safe, Harry, dear.

"Now- you two run along. I need to speak with Harry alone for a while."

They left.

Madame Pomfrey handed Harry his usual potion, and he took a sip with a grimace.

"What do you remember about your summer?" she asked.

Harry repeated what he had told Ron and Hermione, about Aunt Marge's plan to visit.

"… and that was on the 31st, and I can't really remember anything specific after that, not until I was already at Diagon Alley, at the Leaky Cauldron. But it's strange- if I don't think really hard, it's like bit of my brain keeps saying 'Oh, yes, I was at the Dursleys all summer, and I bought the chocolates when I went shopping at Diagon Alley.'"

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Well, that does sound like a memory charm. It's possible to put a substitute memory in the place of the one you erase, but they often don't stand up to close inspection. It sounds like whoever did this to you wasn't very experienced. They didn't add much detail. It's lucky that they didn't do any damage to your mind."

"But- we can fix it, right? Get the memories back?"

"No," Madame Pomfrey said gently. "Most likely not, not without damaging the rest of your mind."

"So- I'm never going to know what happened?"

"We'll just have to find out by detective work."

"That isn't the same."

"No," she said. "I'm sorry. I wish I could make it all better, but healing isn't perfect. Sometimes there is no way to fix things."

Harry took another sip of his potion, and could feel his stomach protesting.

"I can't drink any more of this," he said.

She gave him a sharp look. "Why not?"

"I think I'm going to-"

Then it was time for a mad rush to the toilet, where he was promptly sick.

Madame Pomfrey stood in the doorway as he stood, wiped his mouth, and rinsed it out at the sink.

"This isn't the first time," he said after a moment. "I didn't want to mention, because… Well, Hogsmeade was only a few days away, and I thought…"

"I'm disappointed," she said. "But I doubt it makes much of a difference now. The curse specialist is coming in a few days. If anything can be done, she'll do it."

"If? You mean-"

"Don't worry yet. Wait until Wednesday. But if I find that you've been hiding anything else, you won't be leaving the infirmary until you're better."

Harry shrugged, his mind still stuck on the "if."

"What if she doesn't have a solution?"

"She will. Don't worry."

"You said 'If anything can be done…'"

"I misspoke." Her jaw set.

Harry frowned, unconvinced, but nodded. "I have homework," he said. "I'd better get back to Gryffindor Tower."

Madame Pomfrey nodded, and her expression softened. "Everything is going to be fine. I'll start looking at that chocolate bar, and see if I can find anything in it."

He nodded again, and left.

If. He didn't like the sound of "if."

He'd never really thought that there was an if to this situation. He'd assumed that he'd get better, that nothing bad could really happen to him. And what was the other option? That he'd get thinner and thinner until he- no. He wasn't going to die. He wouldn't let himself die. Madame Pomfrey wouldn't, either. It wasn't going to happen.

He actually did have homework. Snape had give their vampire essays back a few days ago, proclaimed that they were nearly universally abysmal, and told them all to redo it, and to make it twice as long.

Harry glanced through his essay. "Not enough detail," one note said. Another: "Wrong- as usual."

With a sigh, he pulled out the book he had been using before, to double-check his facts.

_The vampire never eats, being made violently ill by any food other than blood._

Harry gave a little start at that. _No_, he thought. _I'm just being paranoid_.

He turned the page.

_The_ _making of new vampires from humans usually takes place on a time span of hours or days. While longer times are not unheard of, there is no practical benefit to this, and more danger to the new vampire, as during the transitional period a vampire is unable to nourish itself from blood or food with any degree of efficiency._

_In most countries, the making of new vampires is outlawed, and while vampires are extremely long-lived, they are not immortal. Thus, vampire populations have been steadily declining since the early 17__th__ century. It is estimated that by the year 2200, vampires will be all but eradicated, with only a few remaining. Opinions on this are divided; many feel that vampirism is a curse, akin to lycanthropy, which ought to be eliminated as soon as possible. Others feel that vampires are a species in their own right, and do not deserve to be driven to extinction. In lawmaking bodies worldwide, however, policy has thus far been clear. Vampirism is defined as a disease, and vampires are subject to special restrictions in travel, wand usage, and interactions with others._

_There is no cure for vampirism._

Harry looked away from his essay, and stared into the fire on the other side of the room.

_I'm not turning into a vampire_, he thought. _That's ridiculous_.

But the idea wouldn't go away. He was being made violently ill by food, and the book said it was possible for it to take a long time- though they didn't say _how_ long, exactly.

It was utterly ridiculous. But he had a blood-flavored lollipop in his trunk. He could try it, and when it made him feel as ill as everything else, he'd know he was just grasping at straws.

No one was around. They were all at dinner. If he was going to do it, now was the time.

He went up the stairs, opened his trunk, and fished through the giant bag of sweets until he found the lollipop. There it was, bright red with a wrapper that proclaimed that it was a "Blood Sucker!" with a stylized cartoon vampire.

He opened it, and put it in his mouth.

Really, it wasn't disgusting at all. It was blood flavored, that was certain- it had the distinctive coppery taste- but at the same time it actually tasted pretty good. Better than anything else had since all of this started.

After that he must have lost focus for a minute, because suddenly the lollipop was gone.

_Oh_, he thought, too surprised to even think coherently. Then: _Oh, hell, no._

Despite Madame Pomfrey's dire warnings about what would happen if he withheld any more information, he didn't think this was something he'd be sharing.

_I'm still not sure,_ he thought, a bit desperately. _I could be wrong._

He needed a different book. This one wasn't about figuring out if you were a vampire. It was a textbook about magical creatures.

Well, Hermione could always be relied upon to take far too many books from the library for any assignment. There was a whole pile of them in the corner of the common room. He pulled a few out. Vampire Myths and Legends- no. Creatures of the Night- Common Misconceptions about Our Friend the Vampire- no, definitely not.

None looked especially useful. If only there were one called "Vampire or Not? A Guide to Identifying the Undead." He finally picked a random one from the pile, which turned out to be a medical text about future possible vaccines against vampirism and lycanthropy. It had a listing for a potion to identify vampire blood, "Which is most often used in a hospital setting to screen for vampirism within days of possible slow infection, but which we have adapted to test samples for our vaccines." The potion was horribly complicated, though, and there was no way Harry could brew it on his own.

And however much he wanted to deny it, he was already sure of what the result would be. It wasn't so much the blood lollipop, although certainly that was good evidence. It was just that, now that the idea had occurred to him, it seemed obvious, as if he were remembering something instead of thinking it through.

_Maybe I am,_ he realized. _I'm missing over a month. I must have learned things then that I've forgotten. Maybe things seem familiar the second time you learn them…_

So fine, he was probably turning into a vampire. He felt a sort of dead weight settle in his stomach at the thought, but another one lifted; he wasn't going to starve to death. He wasn't ill. He was going to be fine.

It was at that moment that the first few people starting trickling into the common room from dinner, Ron and Hermione among them.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Fine. I need to talk to you…"

They went to the corner, and in hushed tones, Harry said to the two of them: "I think I might be turning into a vampire."

There was a moment of shocked silence.

"You can't be," Ron said. "You've been ill for ages. Vampires don't take that long to change. Everyone knows that."

Hermione's mouth was still open. "Liquids," she said.

"What?" Ron turned to her with a bewildered look.

"He's only been having liquids to eat- or drink, I suppose- this year. Soup. His potions. Pumpkin juice."

"You've been _keeping track_?"

"Yes. Is that how you figured it out?"

"No," Harry said. "It was like this…" He explained about eating the blood lollipop, and how it had actually tasted good.

"But you've been eating chocolate," Hermione pointed out. "Maybe it's just because the lollipop was a sweet."

"It wasn't sweet at all," Harry said. "Not really. It tasted like blood."

Ron and Hermione both started to look very uncomfortable.

"I think you should talk to Madame Pomfrey about this," Hermione said after a moment. "She could… test that theory."

"No," Ron said. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because if he is one, then telling anyone is that _last_ thing he wants to do. It's not something you want getting out, a thing like that."

"She's a healer, Ron. She's not going to tell anyone. It would be confidential."

"It's _vampirism_, Hermione. You got all of those books from the library. Didn't you see anything useful in there?"

Hermione looked annoyed. "Apparently not. Why don't you educate me?"

"Vampires aren't human. They're like house-elves, or merpeople. They don't get wands, they have special laws to regulate them- and they certainly don't get to go to Hogwarts."

The weight in Harry's stomach suddenly became much heavier.

"No," he said. "That can't be."

"Harry could be wrong, though," Hermione said. She turned to Harry. "I mean- about what's happening to you. You could-"

"I think I would know best what's happening to me," Harry said.

"But-"

"I'm sure," Harry said in a forceful whisper, thumping the table with his fist.

Hermione stopped arguing. In fact, she stopped looking at his face at all. He followed her line of sight downward, as did Ron.

The table had splintered under his hand.

_I guess that would be the super-strength, finally,_ he thought with an equal sense of satisfaction and panic. The common room was full of people! He glanced around, and saw that, luckily, none of them happened to be looking towards their corner of the room.

Hermione seemed to have reached her quota of shocked pauses for the day. She performed a hasty _reparo_ on the table.

"You could have just _said_," she said irritably. "You didn't need to give us a demonstration."

"I didn't mean to," Harry said. "It was- that's never happened before." He stared at his hand for a minute. It didn't hurt. He'd smashed a table with his fist and hadn't even noticed.

"We need to go to the library," Hermione said. "Now."

"Don't we already have the entire section on vampires right here?" Harry joked, gesturing towards the table across the room, stacked with books.

"Those aren't the right sort of books for this," Hermione said. "We need law books. You don't think we're going to let you get kicked out of here because of something like this, do you?"

Harry felt a great sense of relief. Everything was very strange, and bad things might happen to him, but at least he wasn't alone.

The next hour was spent in the library.

"This is horrid," Hermione said as she flipped through a book of wizarding law.

"What?"

"All these laws. Not just for vampires. For house-elves, and banshees, and- oh, all sorts of beings. I thought the ones for werewolves were bad, but these-"

"Hermione, what laws are you talking about?"

She passed over the book.

"Ban of wand use for sentient magical creatures?" Harry said.

"I told you," Ron said.

"But… That can't be right," Harry said. "Why would there be a law like that? It doesn't make sense."

"I don't know," Hermione said. "It doesn't seem fair, does it? And look- it's been a law since 1823."

"People used to be really scared of vampires," Ron said. "A lot still are."

"And here's another," Hermione said with disgust. "Not allowed to live near muggles. Not allowed to live near wizards unless they report to all of their neighbors what they are and get permission- and I expect that's a bit difficult. Honestly, where are they supposed to live? A cave?"

Ron looked up suddenly. "Or a forest," he said.

"What?" Harry said. But then he realized what Ron meant. "The werewolves in the forest- they aren't werewolves at all, are they? They're vampires."

Hermione's eyes widened. "That makes sense."

"What are the chances," Harry asked, "of vampires moving into the forest right after one of them bites me?"  
"It has to be connected," Hermione said.

They tried for the next few minutes to come up with theories on why anyone would want to turn Harry into a vampire, but every possibility was more ludicrous than the last.

"Maybe You-Know-You paid them to do it," Ron suggested.

"With what money? And why? I mean, if they were close enough to bite me, wouldn't it be a lot easier to just kill me, instead of going through some elaborate plot?"

"Well, yes. But maybe there's some other reason, too."

"Like what?"

And of course, that brought them right back to the original problem: they just didn't have enough information to speculate.

But still, Harry kept up a determined stream of talk. As long as he was talking and joking, he wasn't thinking about what was happening to him. Wasn't thinking about how the curse specialist was going to come on Wednesday to diagnose him- and would almost certainly figure everything out.

These could very well be his last days at Hogwarts, and he wasn't going to think about that yet. If he did, it would crush him. Hogwarts was the only real home he'd ever known. If he had to leave, what would he do? Live with the Dursleys? No- that, at least, wouldn't happen. Vampires couldn't live near muggles.

Soon enough, the library closed, and the three of them returned to Gryffindor Tower.

"I'm tired," Harry said. "I think I'm going to bed."

"Weren't you going to finish up that essay for Snape?"

"Finished already," Harry said. "While you were at dinner."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well- goodnight, then."

Harry went up, and sank into his covers.

It was Sunday night. He had Monday and Tuesday to stay at Hogwarts. Wednesday morning, the healer would come.

Would they kick him out right away? One of the books he'd been looking through had a potion in it that could identify vampires. If some had been brewed already, then it wouldn't take long at all for the healer to confirm what he was.

Why hadn't Madame Pomfrey realized? Was it the amount of time this was taking? The book had said vampires usually took only a few hours or days. But still- she knew that there were vampires in the forest, didn't she? She'd treated Lupin. She would have to know. So she ought to have been on the alert. She ought to have _known_, and told him.

He felt a wave of anger, but it quickly petered out. Even if she had, she couldn't do anything. There was no cure.

Two full days of Hogwarts left.

He fell into an anxious sleep eventually, and dreamed that he was in the forbidden forest, walking quickly.

"I don't know why you keep trying to get away," a voice behind him commented.

Harry didn't slow down, or even turn around.

"I don't see why you stay," he said.

"I haven't got anywhere better to go, have I? Besides, I wouldn't leave you here alone. You might end up as a snack."

"My friends are going to notice that I'm not answering their letters. They'll find a way to get to me and rescue me."

Harry wanted to turn, to see who he was talking to, but a stubborn part of his mind kept saying: that isn't how it goes. You didn't turn around.

It was then that he realized that he was dreaming, and woke up. He was standing in the middle of the room.

_At least I'm not on the stairs this time,_ Harry thought, and went back to bed.

**A/N:**

Sinister chocolate bars! Vampires! Memory loss! Overestimates of Voldemort's intelligence!

If anyone wants to beta and/or Brit-pick this, let me know. I fix everything I notice, but I'm sure I'm missing 75 percent of the Brit-picking, at least. (Thus "sick" instead of "ill" in previous chapters, which I'll be going back and fixing...)

Please review!


	6. Vampires, Part II

I accidentally cut off a paragraph or two when posting the last chapter (Don't ask me how, I've no idea…) but that's fixed now. There were no vital plot points added, so you don't need to go read it now unless you really want to. :D

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**

**Chapter 6: Vampires, Part II  
**

Harry didn't manage to fall asleep again after waking from his dream. He just stayed under the covers.

He didn't know what he was going to do.

What would he be if his wand was taken away? If he no longer was a wizard, but a vampire? He didn't have anywhere to go. There were laws that made it hard to find a place to live- nowhere near muggles, which ruled out nine tenths of the world, and if he lived near wizards he would need to tell his neighbors what he was. Somehow he didn't think that would go over well.

_Maybe,_ he thought, _I_ _shouldn't wait for them to find out._

After all, if no one knew that he was a vampire, no one could do anything about it. He wouldn't have to register. He could keep his wand.

He'd be a runaway. People would look for him. Ron and Hermione would miss him.

But then- they would miss him if he had his wand snapped and was sent away, too.

The idea was absolutely mad, but he couldn't stop toying with it.

He had to have somewhere to run to, that was the problem.

At some point during his brooding, he must have fallen asleep, because suddenly it was dawn, and far too bright.

_It's speeding up_, Harry thought, wincing a little at the light. How long did he have until he was fully a vampire? He hadn't even thought of it; he'd need blood. Blood and no sunlight. It wasn't going to be pleasant.

He went to see Madame Pomfrey, and she gave him some of his potion.

"Try to have some," she said. "But don't force yourself.

He looked at it, and took a small sip. He couldn't bring himself to take two.

Madame Pomfrey gave him a sad look, but took the remaining potion away.

"I've examined the chocolate bar," she said. "There's quite a bit of strange magic in it, but nothing that looks like a curse."

"Oh."

"I wouldn't advise eating any more of it. It's possible that the magic in the chocolate bars was interacting with the curse, and making it difficult to identify. I'd like you to bring the rest of them by later today."

"Alright."

There was a moment when he almost blurted it out. It would be easy to tell her that he knew exactly what had happened to him. He didn't, of course. He had plans forming, however vague they still were. He still had some hope of getting out of all of this without having his wand snapped.

He didn't go to breakfast. Instead, he went to the library. Madame Pince gave him a suspicious look as he came in, but ignored him once it was clear that he wasn't going to talk loudly or ruin any books.

He needed a place to run. Were there any havens for magical creatures? He didn't think he had it in him to run off into the Forbidden Forest on his own, but if he could find some-

But there were already vampires in the Forbidden Forest. Vampires who might have advice. Vampires who might know who had bitten him- and why.

Vampires who could very well _be_ the ones who had bitten him.

No. It was absolutely insane. He wasn't going to do that. He couldn't.

He left the library after only a few minutes, and decided to skive off all of his morning classes to go outside. Whether he ran away or stayed to be expelled, there was no point in spending another minute in Potions being insulted or listening to Binns drone on about goblin rebellions.

It was far too bright outside, and unseasonably warm for November. He went to the broom shed, took out his Nimbus 2000, mounted it before even getting fully out of the shed, and zipped along the ground at high speed for a few meters, toes grazing the grass until he was off, spiraling into the sky.

He hardly ever flew on his own. It was always for Quiddich or Quiddich practice. And that was fun, too, but it wasn't the same as just floating. This was the most relaxed he had been since he'd first set foot in the Hospital Wing this year.

He circled again in the sky, and noticed a figure running across the grounds from the forest. He couldn't make out who it was from this height, so he went closer.

They were running faster than he had ever seen anyone run. It wasn't anyone he recognized- not from above, anyway. A boy, in second or perhaps first year, judging by his size, with dark hair. He was running as if his life depended on it, but when Harry looked back, he didn't see anything following. Then he looked further, and saw the forbidden forest.

_Probably took a scare_, he thought. _Should have listened to the warnings at the beginning of the year- it isn't safe in there._

He watched the boy enter the castle. Well, he seemed safe enough now. He'd probably learned his lesson.

Harry returned to flying, doing a loop and letting out a whoop of joy.

It was mid-afternoon when he returned to the castle. Everyone had gone to their afternoon classes, so Harry had Gryffindor Tower to himself except for a couple of seventh years snogging in the common room. They gave him a dirty look as he walked through, but he ignored them.

He thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye as he walked into his room, but when he looked around, there was no one and nothing there. But the curtains around his bed had been closed. He walked over, opened them, and saw a note on his pillow.

_You have a lot of questions. We can answer them. Come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest by 4 o'clock. We'll find you._

He looked at the clock. It was only fifteen minutes until four. There was no time to tell anyone. If he was going, he had to leave now. And he was going; wasn't this what he'd been considering, just this morning? He was going to talk to the vampires.

He took his invisibility cloak with him. He knew that, realistically, it wouldn't hide him if he got into trouble. But he'd be damned if he walked into danger with no protection at all.

He left the note where it was. If he didn't come back, at least Ron and Hermione would know where he was.

He walked down the stairs to the common room, and barely noticed when the seventh year boy said "Merlin's balls, will you stop walking through here?!" and hastily helped his girlfriend rebutton her blouse.

He was going to meet the vampires.

All too soon, he was standing at the edge of the forest. He paused for a moment before walking in. This was so stupid. How would he even know where in the forest to go? It was huge. They could be anywhere.

But he kept walking, and found himself stepping over branches and ducking under tree limbs as if he'd walked this way dozens of times. Maybe he had. Memory charms were strange. Some things didn't seem affected at all by the fact that he was missing months of time. Maybe he'd been here over the summer, when they'd bitten him.

He pushed through a woody bush and was suddenly in a small clearing. Sunlight beamed down, brightly enough to make his eyes hurt. There was utter silence.

"Hello," said the man on the other side of the clearing. He was standing in shadow, dressed in dark robes and a cheap plastic pair of sunglasses. Even so, Harry recognized him immediately. He was the boggart-man.

"I expect you don't remember me," the man said, taking off his sunglasses. He stared at Harry with a little too intently. "My name is Galba."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Come here," Galba said.

Harry remained where he was.

"Oh, honestly. I'm not going to hurt you. No one is. Come- have something to drink."

"I'm not sure I want anything that you're offering."

"Not yet, perhaps. In a few days, though, you will." Galba's smile was oily.

Harry had taken an immediate disliking to the man, but he'd already come this far. He walked to the other side of the clearing, and followed Galba. They walked for a few minutes in silence, until they came to a small village. There were a dozen squat stone houses. Galba led him to one, opened the door, but did not follow him in. When Harry looked behind him, the door was closed. The very definite sound of a key in a lock followed.

Inside, sipping a cup of tea and reading a book, was Professor Lupin.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said.

Lupin looked up, and an expression of utter dismay crossed his face for a moment. "Hello, Harry," he said. He closed his book and set his tea down.

Harry walked across the room. "We all thought you'd been kidnapped by Sirius Black," he said. "But- you're alright?"  
"I'm fine," Lupin said. But whatever he said, he had an unhealthy sort of color to his skin, and his face was a bit pinched, as if he hadn't been eating enough. "And I was not taken entirely against my will."

"Then- you're with them? The vampires? You want to be here?"

"No," Lupin said, his expression darkening a bit. "Once I was here, I realized that the goals of my captors- our captors, now, I suppose- were incompatible with my own."

"What goals are those, then?"

Lupin's eyes darted briefly to the door, as though he were afraid of someone hearing.

What have they been doing to him? Harry thought. The Lupin of a few weeks ago had been confident but unassuming; now he seemed almost frightened.

"They're going to start a war," Lupin said. "A war between humans and nonhumans. They think it's the only way to gain rights for themselves."

"Oh," Harry said. "Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Lupin shrugged. "They don't seem to think so. They say that they know for a fact that things are only getting worse. They say they have a time-traveler advising them. I can't imagine that's true."

"They don't tell you a lot, then," Harry said.

"No. They don't think they can trust me."

Harry sat at the table across from Lupin. "You should eat more," Harry said suddenly. "You look very thin. It looks like they're feeding you."

Lupin barked out a laugh. "Perhaps you should take some of your own advice," he said.

Harry shrugged, unwilling to talk about becoming a vampire in front of someone who obviously wasn't very fond of them.

"Are you hungry?" Lupin asked.

"No. I'll- I'll wait. I… had a big lunch."

Lupin took a sip of tea.

"I'm not entirely human myself," he said, conversationally. "It's why they thought I would be sympathetic. You see, I was bitten by a werewolf when I was a child."

"That's why you could meet with them- with the vampires- safely, then," Harry said. "You're immune."

"Yes. The one and only benefit to my condition."

There was a long moment of silence. Lupin took another sip of tea.

"I think they knew, somehow, that I was catching on to what they were doing to you," Lupin said after a moment. "There must have been something- a question I asked, or a comment I made- something that told them I was putting together the pieces."

Harry said nothing.

"They questioned me for several days about what you had worked out," Lupin said. His face was calm, but as he lifted his tea, his hands shook slightly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"It isn't your fault. And it hasn't been terrible, since then. They leave me alone. They fill up the kitchen every week."

Harry felt like he ought to say something in return, but wasn't sure what. "They left a note for me," he said, "saying they could explain things. I guess they aren't really going to."

It was a very gentle sort of trap. Even now, Harry felt that he could just walk away. But the door was locked, and if he broke through a window, there would probably be vampires waiting to catch him. And even if he did escape, where would he go? Hogwarts wouldn't welcome him for very much longer. It all came back to the same maddening fact: he had no idea what to do next.

"What do they want with me?" he asked.

"I think- and this is speculation, mind you- that they intend to use you as an example. They'll drag you in front of the ministry, or Dumbledore, and say: 'No one is safe from us.'"

"So I'm just… a symbol? Isn't this all a bit much effort for a symbol?"

"I suppose that depends on how many resources they have, and how effective they think this will be. I don't have any idea how much support they have, or how soon they plan to strike. My guess is rather uninformed, I'm afraid."

A key moved in the door, and Galba came in. "Pack up your things, Lupin," he said. "We're moving camp in fifteen minutes."

"I'd like to go back to the castle," Harry said, knowing it was futile. Galba just laughed before walking out the door again. He didn't bother closing it.

Through the doorway, Harry saw that there were several vampires standing around, all wearing those ridiculous sunglasses. They were facing away from the house, watching the forest.

They didn't look like prison guards. They were guarding this little settlement from something outside. Did they expect some kind of attack?

Harry couldn't even speculate on what that might be out there. The forest was full of dangers. He went to help Lupin pack his few possessions.

It was not even fifteen minutes later when Galba burst in again. "We're leaving now. Lupin, you're coming with me. Harry, you wait here- I'll be back in a moment."

The vampire grabbed Lupin and Apparated away. A moment later, he returned for Harry. Side-along Apparition was awful, worse than floo travel. Harry would have been sick when they arrived at the destination, except of course he hadn't eaten anything.

It was very chilly. That was the first thing he noticed, once his stomach settled a bit. It was definitely winter here. The only color was white; the sky was white, and the snow was white, and the two were so close in color that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended. The only thing that stopped the landscape from looking like a blank sheet of paper was the footsteps that the vampires had made while they set up camp, and the tents that now dotted the plain.

Harry and Lupin were apparently not expected to help. This was good, because Harry didn't have the faintest idea how to set up a tent.

"This is going to be awfully cold, isn't it?" Harry said to Lupin. He was already freezing; he wasn't dressed for this weather. His teeth chattered. In a way, though, he was almost glad for the cold. Vampires couldn't feel it as much. It was a reminder that he was still human. Mostly.

Then he noticed that Lupin was nearly turning blue with the cold, and couldn't even answer him for the chattering of his teeth. The last bit of Harry's happiness leaked away. So much for mostly human.

"Hey," he said to the nearest vampire, a blonde woman (who was, he noted sourly, wearing a heavy coat and a warm hat.) "It's freezing out here. Could we get some coats, or blankets, or something?"

The vampire shot him an annoyed look, then walked off. Harry hoped it was to find something warm for them.

Sure enough, she returned with two coats. Harry's was brown, warm, and fit him exactly. That seemed a bit strange- there certainly weren't any children around here, so why did they have such a small coat laying around?- but Harry didn't have time to think about it. As soon as he buttoned the coat up, he was being dragged off to one of the tents along with Lupin. The inside of the tent looked more like a house than a tent, and there was a fireplace with a blazing fire quickly warming it.

Harry had finally started to warm up when Galba came in. "Follow me," he said to Harry."

Harry stood. Lupin made as though to follow, but Galba only sneered at him. "Not you, Lupin," he said.

Harry was taken to another tent, this one very clean. Harry recognized it immediately as a hospital of some sort. _Not again_, he thought with an internal groan. Captured by vampires and he still couldn't stay out of the hospital wing for even a day.

There was an elderly-looking man tidying a shelf. Harry thought for a moment that he was human. He hadn't seen any other elderly-looking vampires. But despite this man's apparent frailty, he too was one. That much was obvious once he turned around.

"Ah," he said. "Harry."

Harry was getting annoyed that everyone here insisted on using his first name. It was off-putting. They were trying to be _friendly_.

Galba walked out of the tent. Harry was left with the elderly man. The longer they were in the same room, the more forcibly Harry was reminded of a mad scientist- the frizzy white hair was complemented by a white laboratory coat.

"How have you been?" the man said, almost bouncing.

"Er," Harry said.

"Oh!" the man said. "Where are my manners- of course you don't remember me. I'm Doctor Brown. We met this summer. But you can't possibly remember that. I'm in charge of making sure you're healthy and adapting well to your… change."

"My change," Harry repeated. Well, it was as good a phrase as any.

"Yes. I have a few questions…" Dr. Brown pulled out a sheet of paper. Not parchment, but lined paper. Then he pulled out a ballpoint pen.

Vampires could start out as muggles, Harry remembered. Had Dr. Brown been muggle, then, before he'd been changed?

Dr. Brown proceeded to ask dozen of questions about Harry's diet, sleeping habits, light sensitivity, favorite colors, magical ability, and seemingly any other topic that entered into his head. He made a tick mark next to an item on his list after every question, and sometimes made a more detailed note.

"Do you think about your father much?"

"How is this possibly relevant?" Harry asked.

"I am evaluating your psychological well-being," Dr. Brown said.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "You don't need to do that."

Dr. Brown made a "hrmph!" noise, but finished asking questions. Instead, he read over his list for a moment.

"You need to have some blood sometime," he said. "You're going to starve, else."

"I know," Harry said.

Another hrmph. Dr. Brown went to the other side of the room, where a curtain covered a corner of the room. Harry had taken it to be a sickbed, but when Dr. Brown opened the curtain, he saw that it was actually a living area. There was a bed, a dresser, and a few books. Much of it was in disarray. From a shelf, Dr. Brown pulled down a box, and pulled something out of it.

He brought the item back to where Harry was sitting, and Harry saw that it was a small clear plastic pouch, labeled as AB positive.

It was blood. And it had obviously been stolen from a blood bank.

Dr. Brown handed the pouch to Harry. It was cold. Harry had absolutely no desire to drink it. He merely stared at it for a moment, and set it down on the desk.

"It's difficult, the first time," Dr. Brown said. He picked up the pouch. "I'll warm it up for you."

He went into the living area again, and returned a moment later with a mug filled with warm blood.

"Is this going to speed up anything?" Harry asked. "I don't… I'd like to stay as human as possible, for as long as possible."

"It will speed things up a bit. But frankly, you'll starve if you don't have some soon. You're too thin. We don't need much to survive, as a rule, but there isn't a creature alive that can live on air alone." He got a thoughtful look for a moment. "Well, actually, I suppose that isn't true-"

"But I could wait a few more days," Harry said, cutting in.

"I wouldn't advise it. What would the point be?" Dr. Brown looked at him very intently. "You'll still be the same person after you drink that blood. You will have the same thoughts. You will have the same feelings. Only your body will change- and even then, not by much. You're almost one of us, anyway. And you're dying. You know you're dying. Now, drink."

Harry picked up the mug and took a sniff. It was pleasant-smelling. He didn't want to think very hard about where it had come from, but if he could just concentrate on the taste, maybe… He took a sip. He took another sip.

He finished off the entire mug, and felt full. It was a wonderful sensation. He'd almost forgotten it. And now that he'd had something, he realized that he really had been desperately hungry. He hadn't realized, had ignored it.

He didn't feel ill at all. He felt _normal_, for the first time in weeks.

There were a few more questions from Dr. Brown, but he answered them without really thinking.

Galba came back and took him to his tent. Harry found that Lupin was taking a nap under a huge thick blanket. The tent was otherwise empty, and Harry wandered it aimlessly. He was half bored, half still reveling in the feeling of health.

A room had been made just for him. It had clothing, all in his size. There was a bookshelf with textbooks and fiction. He hadn't read most of the fiction, but all of it looked interesting. A few of the books had doodles in them.

While flipping through the pages of one, Harry saw that there was writing all over a blank page between chapters.

--

_I think they are going to obliviate me. It sounds as if they are going to send me back to Hogwarts- which I'm grateful for, but not at the expense of my memory. So- if you are me, and you are reading this, there are a few things you should know. _

_They won't try to kill you, no matter what you do. But being locked up isn't fun, especially if Galba is watching you. Try not to make them angry._

_Stay away from Galba. He's cruel, and very old, and he kills for fun. When you turn into a vampire, whatever you do, don't turn into something like him. Sometimes I'm afraid that I will. I would rather die first._

_If they give you chocolate, don't eat it. It's full of potions that_

--

But here, the note stopped, as though the writer had been interrupted.

The note was in Harry's handwriting, of course, though sloppy, as though written in a hurry.

He read the warning about Galba a few more times, and realized that it explained a mystery he had almost forgotten about; the boggart, back near the beginning of the school year. Lupin had said that Harry hadn't had enough of the Occludus solution to block out a boggart. Well, he hadn't; the boggart hadn't been Lupin's at all. It had been Harry's, only he hadn't remembered Galba consciously.

Well. Forewarned was forearmed. He would just have to be careful.

**A/N:**

Well, NaNoWriMo is over. I didn't get very far with it, unfortunately. I had to allocate my time to Not Failing Chemistry. Oh, well. One more week until winter break!

Please Review!


	7. Giants

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**

**Chapter 7: Giants**

Lupin was still sleeping soundly when Harry woke up. He looked ill. Harry was careful to be quiet around him.

He was wandered the tent some more, rifling through every book and magazine he could find in hopes of another note from himself. But no more notes were to be found. Apparently that had been the first and the last of them. Maybe they had even interrupted him to obliviate him.

Finally, after perhaps half an hour of looking, he gave up and decided to wander around outdoors instead. It was cold, but he still had the brown coat, and there was a pair of gloves in the pocket. It wasn't especially warm, but then, he wasn't especially cold.

He hadn't walked far when he was stopped by Galba.

"Wouldn't want to wander off that way," Galba said. "Not unless you want to be ripped to shreds by giants, anyway. They're very territorial. Hate intruders."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Feel free to wander the camp," Galba said. "But don't leave it. If the giants don't get you, you'll get lost in the mountains. " He gave Harry a grin. It was obviously meant to be comforting. Harry didn't trust it one bit.

Instead of wandering, Harry went back to the tent he was staying in and checked on Lupin. He'd woken up now, and Harry could hear the water running in the shower. Maybe he was feeling better.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, when Lupin wandered into the living area. While his face looked a little less grey than it had before, he still didn't look well.

"Yes," Lupin said. He sat heavily in a chair at the table. "They've been giving me a potion, for my condition. I should be grateful, I know, but it has certain undesirable side-effects."

It took Harry a moment to realize that the "condition" was being a werewolf. Lycanthropy, that was the technical word, wasn't it?

"So the potion stops you from turning into a wolf, then?"

"It does."

"I thought there was no cure?"

"So did I. They seem to have developed one."

Harry thought about this for a moment. "So- they have to have researchers working for them, to have done that. Probably a lot of researchers."

Lupin nodded. "And funding. And curing lycanthropy is hardly their main goal. I can't even imagine how large their organization must be."

It was only then that Harry realized that Lupin had sidestepped the original question.

"What side-effects does this potion have?"

"Tiredness," Lupin said. "An inability to stay warm. Minor, irritating things. It's enough to make me feel unwell, but not near enough to kill me. Don't worry about that."

"It's worth it, then?" Harry asked. "Even feeling awful like that?"

Lupin looked surprised at the question. "Of course," he said. "Anything would be better than being a werewolf."

Harry was not so certain. Maybe it was different, being a vampire; but given a choice between that and the long weeks of illness, of growing certainty that he was going to die- he would pick this. It wasn't even a choice. Even captured, even with no friends anywhere near, this was better.

_Being a werewolf must be much worse than being a vampire_, he thought. _And Lupin must look a lot worse than he feels._

But having thought that, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. Lupin looked terrible, and as for being a werewolf- well, werewolves were still human, except once a month. They still ate, still slept at normal hours. They could go to school, and have jobs, even if it was a bit difficult for them because of stupid laws. They were allowed.

Saying so wouldn't make Lupin feel any better, though, so Harry kept his thoughts to himself.

Around noon, Galba brought in some books and dumped them on the table in front of Harry. "You'll need to read these," he said. "I want a report on giants by the end of the week."

"A report on what about giants?" Harry asked. He didn't bother questioning the assignment. There had been schoolbooks on the shelf. Clearly, he was expected to learn here. To what end, he wasn't sure.

"Everything about giants," Galba said. "Height. Eating habits. Best methods of killing. Laws about- Pay special attention to laws, current and past- culture. Everything."

"How long should it be?"

"As long as it needs to be, to fit everything you can fit."

Galba put a large sack on the table as well. "Food for you, Lupin," he said. "Your potion should be in there somewhere."

Then he left, as abruptly as he had come.

Harry didn't start working on the report right away. Instead, he took a nap. It was bright out, and the light was making him sleepy, like a cat in a sunbeam.

Which was funny, really- Doctor Brown had said that he was almost a full vampire, but the sunlight wasn't having nearly the effect it was supposed to have on him. Where was the blinding intensity, the permanent damage? It was a little uncomfortable, but nothing like what the books had described.

He decided to ask the doctor next time he saw him.

It was late afternoon when he woke again. It was beginning to get dark out.

_If I were still at Hogwarts_, Harry thought_, I would be getting ready to run away. The curse specialist was going to come tomorrow morning._

Ron and Hermione were probably worried sick about him. He hadn't even left a note, or said goodbye. The only thing he'd left was the note that the vampires had left him, saying to meet in the forest. And since he wasn't in the forest anymore, it wasn't even accurate.

Well. He would have to get them a message, somehow. Escaping didn't seem very urgent, yet (where would he go?), but getting a message out was.

Over the next few days, he kept his eyes open for an owl. He hadn't seen any, and it made him wonder how the vampires sent letters. They had to send some; it would be absurd to wage war without some way to talk to others.

He also made a point of asking Doctor Brown about his vision, when he next saw him.

"That?" Doctor Brown said. "Oh, we worked out how to stop that from happening. A potion, taken frequently, combined with a slow transformation- didn't you wonder what the chocolate bars were for? Of course, it would have worked better if you'd taken it exactly once a day. I'm afraid you'll always be a little sensitive to light, still, among other things- but not as bad as the rest of us, I must say! The next step. I never thought I'd live to see the day when I could call us a true species, but we're working our way there, one bit at a time." Then he bustled off, in an awful hurry for something or other. Harry had no idea what Doctor Brown did all day (vampires were almost never ill, and Harry had trouble imagining that enough were injured to keep his time occupied, even in a camp this size) but he always seemed like he was short on time.

Maybe he was one of those researchers, working on a cure for something or another. Or perhaps he brewed Lupin's potion.

It wasn't just Brown that seemed busy all of the time, though. Everyone was always bustling around, at every hour of the day and night, carrying packages or patching a tent that had a hole, or bringing Lupin some food (not as often as they ought to, so Harry tried to keep track of how much there was in the cupboards, and remind someone when supplies were running low).

They kept him busy, too, making him write report after report on giants, and testing him constantly. It was like school, but more demanding. They gave him more blood when he did well, and less when he did poorly, and since hunger for blood was startlingly strong, he learned to do well. He would have compared it to the Dursleys for the withholding of food, but the tasks the vampires set him were possible, unlike Aunt Petunia's giant list of chores. This was to be preferred.

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Harry asked, after about a week.

"These are things you'll need to know by heart, someday," Galba said. "You'll thank me later. One day, you'll be a great diplomat."

Harry very much doubted this, but remembering the note he had written to himself, and seeing the beginnings of annoyance in Galba's eyes, he said nothing.

Lupin seemed to get better for a while, but after a couple of weeks, worsened. Probably due to the phases of the moon, Harry decided. Hadn't it been near full moon, when he'd looked worst? The potions were keeping him from changing into a wolf, but the moon was still having an effect on him.

Harry kept careful track of the time that passed. He drew himself a calendar, and put it on the wall. The lines were crooked, and the dates barely legible, but it served. (Though Lupin, flipping through it during one idle afternoon, had needed to remind Harry that there were thirty-one days in March, not thirty)

On the day exactly one month after Harry arrived at the vampire camp, he had not yet seen a single owl. He was beginning to despair of ever sending a message to Ron and Hermione.

They probably thought he was dead.

Then came the day when Lupin wouldn't wake up. He was very pale, and seemed to be having trouble breathing. Harry fetched Doctor Brown straight away, and they forced some potions down his throat, and that made some of his color return.

Harry heard Doctor Brown mutter to himself about decreasing doses, and interactions, and various other things, but none of it made any sense, so he focused on Lupin and ignored Brown.

He hadn't realized until this moment just how much he relied on Lupin. They talked sometimes, about Harry's parents, or Lupin's friend Pettigrew, who had died soon after Harry's parents had. But even if they had never said so much as good morning to each other, they stood with each other against the vampires. Harry wouldn't have been able to stand it here, on his own. He would be too alone. He didn't even know the names of any of the people here, other than Galba.

So, after one month and six days of staying with the vampires, Harry decided it was time to leave. He began looking for escape routes.

His chance came sooner than he had imagined possible.

"There's one giant tribe left," Galba said to him, that very afternooon. "They're a small group, and probably the least important to our plans. It's time to see if you're up to the task of diplomacy."

They left the very next morning. Luckily, the giants were close enough to walk to. Harry didn't think he could stand side-along Apparition again.

Galba came, and the blonde woman who had given Harry his coat on that first day. Marissa, he had heard someone call her since.

It was very cold. Harry's hands were numb after a few minutes walking. A few minutes searching in the pockets of his coat gave him a pair of gloves. Underneath the gloves, he felt something else- a crumpled piece of paper.

Was it another note? He didn't dare take it out. He didn't dare let anything show on his face. He put the gloves on, and tried not to think about it.

Instead, he tried to remember everything he had read over the past month about giants. Did they have to bring a gift for the leader of the giants- the grog- every time, or just the first time they contacted the tribe? Neither Galba nor Marissa seemed to be carrying anything, so he decided that it was only the first time.

He thought for a moment about sabotaging this talk, of doing his worst and most offensive job at it, but soon squelched the thought. The note had said not to anger Galba- and even if he did sabotage this, what good would it do? Galba had been very clear that this wasn't an _important_ talk.

No. He would do his best, this time. And if an opportunity presented itself, maybe he would do something then. He still hadn't made up his mind. Certainly he wasn't harboring any fond feelings for these vampires, but- they were trying to establish equal rights for magical creatures, even if they were doing it in a way he didn't agree with. Was it his job to stop it?

It was all very confusing, and he wished Ron and Hermione were there. It was like missing a piece of his brain. He'd find himself having imaginary conversations with them, but his imagination always failed when he asked them for advice on what to do.

After a good twenty minutes of walking, they finally arrived at the giant's camp.

"I'll do most of the talking," Marissa said as they approached. "You're just here to watch, really. We brought the grog gifts last week, and by now he should have had time to think things over."

The terrain was very rocky here- not small rocks, either, but huge hillocks, just barely too small to be called mountains. They walked over the top of one of these, and saw the giants.

They were huge. But that wasn't what caught Harry's attention. Because standing in front of Harry, apparently about to walk into the giant encampment with a gift in his hands, was Hagrid.

There was a moment when Harry froze, but then he was running faster than he had ever run before.

"Hagrid!" he said. "Hagrid, it's me!"  
Hagrid turned, slowly- at least, it seemed slowly, but perhaps Harry was moving so quickly that Hagrid only seemed slow in comparison.

"'Arry?" Hagrid said. "What're ya doin' 'ere?"

Hagrid caught Harry up in a huge hug. But there was no time for explanations. Marissa and Galba caught up almost immediately.

"Harry," Galba said. "Get back here."

Harry did no such thing. "It's Hagrid," he said. Then, turning back to Hagrid, he said, "You won't believe all that's happened to me- it's insane-"

Galba moved so quickly that he was a blur. Harry had the horrible sensation that his arm was being pulled off as Galba grabbed him and pulled him away.

"Hagrid!" Harry said. But he was being dragged away still, and Marissa was holding Hagrid back- it would have been funny in other circumstances, the small blonde physically retraining Hagrid- and then they were once again over the hill and Hagrid was out of sight.

"You are not to talk to anyone you know," Galba said, almost in a hiss. "We have plans in place. You'll disturb them. Do I make myself clear?"

"You're hurting me," Harry said, in what was meant to be an angry voice but actually ended up as more of a whimper. His shoulder, when he looked at it, looked funny. Dislocated, maybe. It hurt badly, to say the least. He had been jerked so fast- and Galba was still gripping his arm much too tightly.

Galba's grip loosened slightly, so that it only barely hurt. The shoulder was still excruciatingly painful.

"We're going to obliviate him, you realize," Galba said. "He's a half-giant, so it won't be easy. They're resistant to spells. We might wipe more than we intend. We might damage his mind. If you'd stayed back, this wouldn't have happened."

"My shoulder," Harry said, in too much pain to absorb the lecture. "It hurts."

Galba looked at it. "Good," he said. He smiled grimly. "That should hammer in the lesson all the better. You don't do anything without permission, either from me or from… others." Harry got the impression that he had meant to say something quite different, but couldn't think about it long, because at that moment, Galba started to walk away, pulling Harry along by his damaged arm.

The pace on the way back was brutal; it was halfway between a run and a walk, and Harry couldn't quite get it right, so that he was constantly falling behind, then catching up- and in falling behind, his arm was pulled.

The walk back seemed much, much longer it had been in the other direction. Galba finally released him outside Doctor Brown's tent.

"Fix yourself up," he said. "And next time, don't be so hasty."

The arm was, indeed, dislocated. Setting it to rights was just as painful as dislocating it had been, if not worse.

"Not quite transformed yet," Doctor Brown said, with a sigh. "Or maybe the potions we gave you had another effect, made you more human, more prone to injury. They weren't tested enough, but there wasn't time- well, what's done is done, and we'll soon see. But still- a bit of injury would be worth it, to take back the day, wouldn't it?"

Harry nodded absently.

"Here- have some blood. You aren't going to recover properly if you don't eat right!"

Harry took the blood that was offered. As always, it was labeled AB positive, and in a plastic pouch.

"Where does this come from?"

"Oh, blood banks and hospitals. I'm sorry to say that there wouldn't be such a need for it in muggle hospitals, if we weren't around. Still- we only take what is least needed. Do you know about blood types, at all?"

Harry didn't, of course, not having gone to muggle school since he was ten years old.

"Well- I'll spare you the details. But AB positive blood can only go to patients who themselves have the blood type AB positive- and those patients are able to accept any other type of blood. So this is the least useful of all the blood types. We're still draining the supply, but we're trying to do as little harm as possible while we do it. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Better than getting it directly, I suppose."

"There are still some of us who advocate that. But it attracts too much attention. Once, the muggles were isolated, each group in their little village. Now they live in huge cities. They have mobile phones, and news programs. It doesn't matter how fast we are; if we eat like animals, we will be caught like animals. Even to be caught on film would be problematic. It just isn't practical anymore, not in this area of the world."

Harry nodded again.

"Besides," Doctor Brown said. "I've rather lost my taste for screaming victims. This is much cleaner."

He stood. Harry had finished his blood.

"Off to bed with you," he said. "Be careful of that shoulder for a few hours."

Harry left, troubled.

On one hand, there were vampires like Doctor Brown- a bit odd, and perhaps a few cards short of a full deck at times, but not evil.

And then there was Galba.

If they were willing to damage Hagrid, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, than this was going to be a very ugly war. The good vampires wouldn't be able to stop it. They would try to make it humane, but it would be useless, because Harry could tell that arguing with Galba was likely to get you hurt, or maybe killed.

Well, Harry wasn't going to be any part of this. He was going to get away. He didn't know where, he didn't know how, but he was going to. He had to.

And then, he was going to stop them. Because someone had to protect the Hagrids of the world.

-

**A/N:**

Yes, I fail at Hagrid's accent.

Please Review!


	8. Harry Potter

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**

**Chapter 8**

**Harry Potter**

The day after Harry resolved to stop the vampires, an owl came. Harry would have missed it, if he hadn't been walking outside, trying to find someone to bring more food for Lupin. They ought to have brought some the day before, and Lupin was so ill today that he couldn't walk without falling over.

There was something very wrong with a cure that made you feel worse than your illness ever had, in Harry's opinion. But Lupin was the werewolf. Presumably he knew what was best for himself.  
Harry chanced to look up, and there was an owl in the air. He might have missed it then, too- the sky and owl were both white- but he had better vision these days. Especially when it came to seeing movement.  
So he saw the owl, and he whipped out his wand before he had even thought about it, pointed it at the owl, and said "Accio."  
It was after the owl came that he realized he had no idea what that spell was supposed to do. But by then, he had an angry owl to deal with. There were a few moments of scuffling, and Harry just managed to keep the owl from escaping, when he realized that it wasn't just like Hedwig in coloration; it _was _Hedwig.  
Hedwig, once she realized that the strange person grabbing her was Harry, gave him a deeply offended look, and stopped struggling.  
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize it was you."  
She nipped his finger, so he decided all was forgiven.  
If Hedwig was here, then someone at Hogwarts had to be using her. Had Ron and Hermione sent him a letter? If they could do that, wouldn't they have come to find him?  
He heard someone talking inside the tent nearest to him, and ducked behind it. He was near the outskirts of the camp, so it wasn't so busy- but it wouldn't do to get caught.  
There was a letter on Hedwig's leg. When he took it from its envelope, he saw that it was all numbers-some sort of code, maybe? He knew he'd never be able to figure it out, so he ripped off the black half of the last page, and used to to write his own message. As he stuck it back into his pocket, his hand brushed the piece of paper that was already in his pocket. Oh- that. Well, he didn't have time to look at it just now.

Luckily, there was a muggle pen in his pocket, which he must have absentmindedly taken from Doctor Brown at some point. He scrawled off a quick note, as long as he dared make it. Every moment he took increased the chances he would be caught.

_Ron, Hermione-  
Have been captured by vampires. Am somewhere in the mountains, near giants. Saw Hagrid yesterday, but he has probably been obliviated. Vampires are planning war on ministry. Lupin is also here, also being held captive. Lupin is ill from lycanthropy cure, but otherwise we are both unharmed.  
No idea what Hedwig is doing here, but I'm glad she is.  
I don't think I can write again. Don't write me. It isn't safe._

--

Then, at the bottom, where they could easily tear it from the rest, he wrote:

--

_I'm definitely a vampire now. I'm not ill anymore, though. So you don't need to worry that I'll die or anything.  
I guess I can't come back to Hogwarts, even if I get out of here. But I miss you both._

He dated the letter, figuring that that might help them figure out where he was, and attached it to Hedwig's leg.  
"Give this to Ron and Hermione," he told her.  
She flew off, and Harry watched her until she was too small to see. There went his only lifeline to the outside world.

That just left the paper in his pocket. He took it out.  
It was another coded message. Well, that was useless. Why was it in his pocket at all? This coat was from the summer, wasn't it? Somehow he doubted that he'd been trusted enough to handle coded messages, even then. He was a thirteen year old, for Merlin's sake. No one was going to trust him to do anything important, even if they were sure he was on their side- which the vampires really had no reason to think.  
So maybe the coat wasn't his at all. Maybe it was someone else's coat, and they'd forgotten to take the message out before they passed it on.  
But Harry couldn't believe that, either. The coat was exactly his size. There was no one else around that was as small as him. It was his.  
Maybe he'd intercepted an owl sometime during the summer? That was all he could think of that made sense, and even that didn't really fit; Ron and Hermione hadn't mentioned any owls from him, and he didn't know who else he would have written. Dumbledore, maybe? Anyone he would have written would have mentioned it.  
He had the maddening feeling that he was missing some clue that would make sense of all of this.  
Life set back into its usual patterns. Harry was set to the task of learning all about werewolves, now that he had failed to be an effective diplomat to the giants. The camp became even busier, and Harry realized it was only a matter of time before they moved camp. There was no reason to stay here, now that they were finished with the giants.  
He forgot entirely about the strange coded messages in his coat pocket, which was probably for the best. The last thing he needed was another mystery. He had enough on his hands, just trying to escape. It wasn't an easy task; he wandered as far as he dared, and paid close attention to the area surrounding the camp, but there was no sign of any town nearby. The only other living creatures he had seen were the giants- who would more likely kill him than help.

They were making the last preparations to leave when there was a bit of a ruckus. Galba had come across a human woman in another vampires tent. Harry didn't know that vampire's name; he recognized him, though, from times he had brought Lupin food. He was paler than was usual, even for vampires, and his hair was the same color as Ron's. He had always made Harry a little homesick, for that reason alone.

As Galba dragged him to the center of the camp, though, and his crimes were revealed, Harry just felt sick.

Apparently, this man- Jacob, he was called- had taken this woman from Hogsmeade just before they left the forest. He had kept her in a tent and used potions to keep her quiet and cooperative- love potions, and calming droughts, and all sorts of other things, none of which were safe to use together.

"You drank her blood?" Galba said. Harry had never seen him look so furious.

"What else would I be doing with her?" Jacob said. "It's the one pleasure left to us- eating And you'd have us give up even that."

"I would," Galba said. Some of the fury went out of his voice, but he was still angry. "And you agreed to give it up, so that we could work towards equal rights. So that we could work, and live in houses. Are you willing to give those dreams up, for a few meals?"

"She offered," he said. "She said I could have some- could drink some of her blood- if I gave her some money to help her family. And I did."

"You kidnapped her. You drugged her. She may never be the same."

Harry thought that Jacob would try to protest some more. And indeed, he might have, if Galba hadn't suddenly pulled out a knife and sliced his head off.

The head rolled around, the body collapsed to the ground, and Harry looked away. The blood didn't bother him anymore, but the bone, muscle and the death itself did. It was still gory. Being a vampire didn't make it much less disgusting.

"Now I need someone to make sure Lupin and the woman eat enough," Galba said with distaste. "Harry- you were doing that anyway. It will be your responsibility. Simply let me know what needs to be purchased."

"Lupin could tell you himself," Harry pointed out. "He knows how much he eats."

"Lupin is ill, and the woman is worse. Neither are capable. And Lupin is a prisoner. I don't want him to have access to a supply of food. He might stockpile it and try to escape."

"Lupin wouldn't be ill, if it weren't for that potion you give him." _And I'm just as much a prisoner as Lupin. Why pretend that I'm not?_

"He would be a werewolf if it weren't for that potion. He made his views very clear to us. He would rather be ill than be a lycanthrope. No one forces him to drink it. In fact, he would fight you if you tried to stop him from having it."

After seeing a man beheaded by Galba, Harry wasn't willing to argue the point.

"Fine," he said. "The woman- has she had food, then? What is her name?"

"I don't know her name. She seems to have been fed, though not nearly enough. I imagine Jacob was taking food from the supplies we kept for Lupin. You might want to move her into your tent. You have an extra room, yes? She is... unwell."

Harry went to the tent Jacob had kept the woman in. There had been a great deal of shouting in it earlier. The entire camp knew which tent it was by now. It was a warehouse, and very chilly.

She had dark hair, and her skin was pale. Anemic, no doubt. She was sitting in a chair, hands folded in her lap. She wore long blue robes, and was very still.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. She looked up. Her eyes were dark blue, too, and they seemed to look a little past him.

"Jacob," she said. "Where is Jacob?"

"He's gone," Harry said.

She started weeping silently. Harry remembered that she had been given love potions, as well as a dozen other things.

"You need to come this way now," he said. "I'll make you - er- a cup of tea."

She followed easily enough, though she kept weeping the whole way. Harry had to help her put on a coat and shoes. She couldn't manage them herself.

Seeing her, he could almost forgive Galba for killing Jacob. Who could do that to another person? Even if it wore off when the potions did- which Harry somehow doubted- it was disgusting, to make anyone so helpless.

He had to hold her hand as they walked to keep her moving, or else she'd stop and look around with a puzzled expression.

"Here," he said when they finally got to the tent he and Lupin shared. "This is where you'll be staying."

She didn't seem to take any interest in her surroundings, but sat willingly enough in a chair. He made a cup of tea for her, then woke Lupin, who was not feeling well, yet again.

"I'm supposed to take care of her," Harry said after explaining, "but I don't know what to do."

"She needs to go to St. Mungo's," Lupin said. "Potion interactions are complex. I don't know how much we can do for her."

Harry looked through the doorway. He could see the woman, sitting quietly once more. She hadn't touched the tea. He might have expected as much. She didn't seem capable of anything at all.

"I'll take her to Doctor Brown," he said. "Maybe he can do something."

He made her drink her tea first, by reminding her about it every minute or so. Then he went through the tedious process of leading her to Doctor Brown's tent.

"A human!" Doctor Brown said, when Harry walked in with her. "What is she doing here?"

"You didn't hear?" Harry asked. "I was all the way across the camp, and I heard the noise."

"I was away this morning."

"Jacob was keeping her. He gave her all sorts of potions- I don't know exactly what, but there were love potions and calming ones- and Galba told me to take care of her. I thought you might be able to help."

"Hmm..." Doctor Brown said. "I don't know what I can do, without knowing what potions she was given. We'll see how she fares tomorrow. Most potions last less than a day."

So Harry was left to look in the warehouse tent for food. Lupin was out of tea.

That morning, just before the disturbance, the camp had starting packing in earnest. They would be leaving the next day. Harry's letter to Ron and Hermione was useless. If, of course, they'd ever received it at all. He had no guarantee.

It was bright out, and that made him tired. Stupid vampire instincts. Everyone else seemed to be managing. But he didn't have any work to do, so he went back to his tent to take a nap.

Lupin was lying on the ground, right near the entryway.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said. "Are you alright?" Which was an inane thing to say, really. Obviously he wasn't okay. He was _unconscious_. But his chest was rising and falling, so he was alive.

Good. Harry didn't want to see anyone else die today. One was more than enough.

He moved Lupin onto the sofa, grateful for the first time for his own vampirism; without it, there was no way he would be able to lift Lupin. Vampire strength: occasionally useful.

Unsure of what to do next, Harry ran back to Doctor Brown.

"It's Lupin- he won't wake up!"

The two of them then made a mad dash back to Harry's tent.

Doctor Brown checked Lupin's pulse, muttering to himself. "Too slow..."

He went into the kitchen. Harry followed.

There was a glass on the counter, with the usual sticky residue from Lupin's potion.

"He took a second dose?" Harry said. For he clearly remembered washing a glass just like that this morning. Lupin had been feeling particularly awful then, and Harry tried to be helpful to him. "Would that- is that why he's so ill?"

"That would account for the sleepiness," Doctor Brown said. "Best to let him sleep it off. Perhaps I should put you in charge of giving him his potion. He seems too confused lately to be administering his own medications."

"He seems too sick to keep going with that potion at all," Harry said. "He can barely walk."

Doctor Brown made a sort of humming noise, and paced back and forth. "I suppose I could reformulate it- slightly- to be less harsh. It might not work so well, then. He might still change."

"I could sit with him," Harry suggested. "I mean- I'm not likely to be hurt if he does change into a wolf, am I? I'm immune."

"Immune to his curse, yes. He could still rip you apart. You are more human than the rest of us. More delicate. I don't think you are strong enough to fight off a werewolf."

Harry scowled. Madame Pomfrey had called him delicate, at the beginning of the year, when the Dementors had affected him so terribly. It was not a word he liked associated with him. Especially now, when he wasn't even human anymore.

"However- that is a good idea. I will sit with him on the full moon. I should have no problems restraining him, should the need arise. For now, I will move him where I can keep an eye on him. "

With that, Doctor Brown picked Lupin up and carried him off. He showed no visible signs of effort, and Harry could see what he had meant, about Harry being delicate. It hadn't been easy for him to lift Lupin. It had merely been possible.

Too human for this place. Too vampire for anywhere else. Really, it didn't seem fair. For all of Doctor Brown's babbling about taking back the day, Harry didn't see that it was worth being weak compared to everyone else, just so he didn't have to wear sunglasses.

He had nothing important to do at the moment, so he pulled out a book from the shelf. He could have had them all read ages ago, but he was saving them- savoring them. They were like a lifeline to the outside world, where people argued over silly things, and fell in love, and ate real food (and enjoyed it, something Harry couldn't imagine anymore), and generally had a good time, even if there were rough patches.

So he read them slowly. He'd never been especially fast with books, so it wasn't difficult to drag them out so that each lasted weeks. And when he finished, he reread all the ones he'd already finished.

It was funny. He'd never liked to read that much before. At the Dursley's, he had no time- chores had taken up his every moment- and at Hogwarts, he'd had friends to take up his time.

Now, he had no distractions.

He must have fallen asleep, because he woke to find that he had dropped the book of the edge of the bed. He automatically reached up to fix his glasses, only to find that he wasn't wearing them. He must have gone without them all day. He hadn't noticed.

Well, there was another benefit to being a vampire.

He yawned, and walked out of his room. Galba was standing in the middle of the room, holding Harry's coat. His hand was in the pocket.

"Hi," Harry said, hoping to distract him. But there was no distracting Galba. There never was. A few seconds later, he discovered the cryptic letters.

"I should have expected as much," he said, "when I realized the orders were missing. I assumed the owl had been lost, or killed. But it was you, all along. Theiving brat."

"What are you doing with Hedwig, anyway?" Harry asked. "She's my owl. You don't have any right to her."

Galba scowled. "You sent a note back, didn't you?"

Harry said nothing. There really wasn't a point in lying.

It seemed like no time passed, but Harry found himself pinned to the wall by his throat.

"What did you say?" Galba asked, his voice more a hiss than human speech.

Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. He didn't really need air anymore, but his body didn't seem to know that; he felt a desperate need to breathe, a burning in his lungs.

Galba's grip tightened. "Tell me."

Harry tried to pull Galba's hands from his throat, but he couldn't. _Too delicate_, a voice at the back of his mind whispered. _Too human._

Galba's grip only tightened, and Harry was sure that he was going to have nasty bruises, healing ability or not, and as Galba gripped, Harry could feel his feet leaving the ground.

"Tell me!" Galba roared, no longer hissing. His eyes were wide, and utterly focused on Harry's face.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound could come out.

It seemed impossible that Galba's grip could get any tighter, but it did. He began to shake Harry, bashing his head into the wall with every twitch of his monstrous arms. Harry was sure he would pass out, from hitting his head if nothing else. But the pain stayed; consciousness stubbornly refused to leave him.

At last, after what seemed like eternity, Galba let him fall to the ground. "Now," he said, more calm. "Tell me what you said, in the letter."

"I told them where we are," Harry managed to choke out. "I told them there was a cure for lycanthropy. I told them everything."

Harry had been expecting more pain, but it was still a surprise when Galba stepped on his hand, crushing it. Harry was sure some bones were broken by now. His hand. Perhaps his skull.

And still, he couldn't pass out.

"You've compromised our plans," Galba said. "You might have gotten someone killed."

Galba paused for a moment, thinking of something. For a moment, it looked as if he might laugh. Then his expression quickly sobered.

"If he is dead," he said, "you'll wish you were."

He stepped on Harry's other hand, then, and might have done more, had a voice at the door not said: "Stop."

Galba turned. Harry could not see- he was on the ground, and the table obscured his view of the door. All he could see of the person at the door was a pair of battered trainers.

_Funny, _Harry thought, still staring at the shoes._ Those are just like my trainers. And that voice-_

"Harry," Galba said, but he was not looking at Harry. He was looking at the door

"Galba," the voice said. And, as the figure stepped forward, Harry realized why the voice had sounded so familiar. It was his own. The figure in the doorway was him- him, wearing a Gryffindor badge on his robes, and holding Harry's school bag.

Polyjuice, he thought. Their plans- they'd had someone there, impersonating him the whole time. Someone had been sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes and going to his classes. Ron and Hermione hadn't even realized he was gone. No one had worried. No one had even known. He felt a tide of despair rise in him- he'd pinned so much hope to that letter. And now he'd been hurt for it, and it _hadn't even mattered._

"Let's get you to Doctor Brown," the other Harry said. He looked pointedly at Galba. "I'll deal with you later."

Broken bones were nothing to a healer, and Doctor Brown was a healer as well as a doctor. It took only moments to fix, and a few more moments to get rid of the bruises.

The other Harry was very quiet while the doctor fixed Harry up, but Brown chattered away.

"And here I thought I was only going to have to deal with one of you for months yet," he said.

"Sorry to disappoint you," other Harry said. "But my cover was blown. They think I was an impostor, disguised with polyjuice."

"Aren't you?" Harry blurted out.

The other Harry laughed. "No. Didn't anyone tell you there was a time traveler in charge of all of this?"

Harry was speechless.

"Here," the other Harry said. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk about this."

They walked back to Harry's tent. Galba was gone, and Lupin was staying with Doctor Brown, so the tent was empty.

"You have a lot of questions," the other Harry said.

"Yes." Harry was still unnerved by the sight of the other Harry. They were utterly identical, in height, in looks- everything. Harry had known, intellectually, that he wasn't going to age, but the reality hadn't been hammered home yet.

"How long?" he finally asked.

"I'm from a hundred years in the future."

So in a hundred years, he would still look thirteen. That was going to be unpleasant.

"And- why?"

"Because there weren't any of us left. I was one of the last vampires, and making new ones was illegal. Everyone I knew was dying. And not just vampires. The ministry gets a lot worse. They started killing centaurs, mermaids, veela- anyone a little different. Everyone who didn't quite fit."

Harry knew himself too well to miss that too-innocent look on the other Harry's face. "You're lying."

"Yes. But that's the official story."

"Then what's the real story?"

The other Harry started pacing. "I think that might have been the real story, once," he said. "But the thing about time travel is, it changes the future. It changes you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well- let me tell you a story, then.

"Once there was a Harry Potter in a world just like I described. Alone. And, just like the official story, he came back and tried to change things. He was successful. But that left a problem- that Harry shouldn't have existed. He was from a future that no longer existed. He was a paradox. Do you follow so far?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now, for this timeline to be stable, it had to be self-sustaining. A Harry in the new future had to go back to the past and change things. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Harry said.

"But this new Harry had grown up in peaceful times. He didn't experience all that the Harry from the old timeline had, but he needed to go back anyway, to start the war that _made_ it peaceful. And the only way to start that war was to tell others about the dreadful future they needed to avoid.  
"So he lied. And after the timeline had repeated enough times, no one could remember the first Harry at all. He existed- exists- only as an explanation. Because otherwise I don't see how any of this could have started."

"So- came back in time and lied to start a war."

"Yes."

"Because you knew the war had to come."

"Yes."

Harry couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.

"But-"

"It all makes sense later," the other Harry said. "Just wait fifty or sixty years."

"What? I can't wait-"

"You'll wait," the other Harry said. "Don't worry, time passes faster than you think."

Another thought occurred to Harry. "Why did you make all of this so elaborate- kidnapping me over the summer, and erasing my memories, and then re-kidnapping me? It all seems so elaborate."

"I wanted you at school as long as possible."

"Why?"

"Because if I could have one more day- one more _minute-_ with Ron and Hermione, I would take it."

That was when Harry was convinced that the other Harry really was a time one could fake things that well.

"Now- I have to go speak to Galba. I think the responsibility I've given him is too much. He's a little..."

"Crazy," Harry finished.

The other Harry frowned. "He's... old. And he forgets what is acceptable. Everything has changed, in the past few hundred years. Hell, it keeps changing. The world's barely recognizable fifty years from now. But I couldn't keep an eye on him, these last few months. It's all a bit much for him."

He stood. "I'm going to change- it'll be nice to get back into my own clothes. I forgot how badly Dudley's cast-offs fit."

Oh. The clothes- they hadn't been from this summer at all. They'd been the other Harry's. That made sense.

The other Harry went into Harry's room, and Harry was left alone, unsure about what to think.

He didn't want to support this war. But it looked he was going to support it, eventually. Start it, even. It seemed a bit silly to oppose it now.

The other Harry emerged, dressed in some of the more formal clothes. Harry had never worn those; he'd left them in the back of the closet.

Is that really what I look like? Harry wondered. The other Harry was- there was no other word for it- graceful. Harry had never really been clumsy, but he couldn't imagine that he walked so smoothly, or looked so elegant. Even as a vampire. Even now.

"Ballroom dancing," the other Harry said.

"What?"

"I took up ballroom dancing for a while. It was something to do. But had to stop after a couple of years. The judges started to notice that I didn't age. I was pretty dazzling for those two years, though. And it improves your posture incredibly."

Harry didn't even want to comment on that.

The other Harry turned to walk out the door.

"Do you want your coat back?" Harry blurted out. "I've been wearing it."

"Keep it. The cold doesn't bother me any more."

The door slammed shut, and Harry was once again alone.

–

-

**A/N:**

There! A bit of a longer chapter to make up for the short one last time.

I know even less about dancing than I do about brit-picking. Actually, the only thing I really know about dancing is that I'm terrible at it.

If anyone would like to beta, let me know.

Please Review!


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